


Picturesque

by supernutellastuff



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends in New York City, Inspired by How I Met Your Mother, Lots of it, Pining, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:18:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7155278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernutellastuff/pseuds/supernutellastuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn’t talk to Klaus about feelings. Ever. Or at least when she’s sober. Sure, there are times when their friends pass out and the two of them lie on the rooftop, looking at the stars, and talk. Or times when they go to clubs and instead of trying to pick up people they find themselves in a corner spilling their guts amidst the pulsating lights. But alcohol or some other form of intoxication is definitely involved.</p><p>Klaroline (with a little Steroline) AU/AH where it's a miracle the gang still have working livers seeing that they spend more time than they should at the bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this after a long overdue HIMYM rewatch. To those of you who love shows where a group of friends hang out at a bar all day doing nothing, the setting will be familiar.  
> This fic is basically my baby. I've been working on it off and on for about a year. I didn't want to post it until it had been completed, and now that it has, the updates shouldn't take much time.  
> Constructive criticism is much appreciated :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the story comes from my all-time favourite book, The Secret History by Donna Tartt.  
> "Does such a thing as 'the fatal flaw,' that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn't. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs."  
> Seriously, check this book out if you like campus novels, murder mysteries, greek tragedies, outsider narrator becoming a part of a privileged group a la Gatsby, and just rich kids drinking all the time.
> 
> Edit: Fixed minor typos and errors.

It’s Tuesday night and all Caroline wants is to get drunk. Not slightly buzzed. Not giggly and tipsy like Stefan’s ex, Ivy - _she’s The One guys_ \- Jenkins. But forget-her-own-name, blackout drunk.  So what if the week has barely started and she already wants to go down to the bar and drown herself in alcohol? She doesn’t _fucking_ care.

As she’s waiting for Katherine to disentangle herself from her latest boy toy, Caroline wonders how her life led up to this. Maybe it started with Stefan asking her to move in. Or earlier, when she came back from Thailand.

She was a straight A girl in school, captain of the cheerleading team, head of a billion organising committees _. Miss Mystic Falls two years in a row_. But college had made her realise how much of a small fish in a big pond she really was. She’d met Elena, and they had such elaborate plans of opening an event organising company in the big city. At that time, the future seemed unquestionably rosy and conquerable.

Then Elena met the Salvatore brothers, and Caroline found herself an unwilling observer to the teen drama train wreck that was the two-brothers-love-the-same-girl triangle. Before she knew it, Elena had moved in to Damon’s apartment in Manhattan and Stefan had disappeared to Italy. Caroline took her own gap year, backpacking across Asia before she returned to New York to work for Meredith Fell’s event organising firm.

It was weird how easily they reconnected. Caroline bumped into Elena, who invited her out to drinks for old times’ sake. At an Irish bar downtown, she found out that Elena and Damon were, unsurprisingly, still together, and were sharing the apartment with Stefan.

“So it’s not awkward, then?” she asked, sipping her beer.

Elena laughed. “With Stefan? No way. He’s dating this girl called Phoebe now. Hey, you should stay and meet the gang! They’ll be coming down soon.”

And that was how she met everyone else. Damon’s “Hey Blondie” and Stefan’s warm smile and hug was as familiar as home. She remembered Katherine, Elena’s cousin, from a few Gilbert family gatherings. She remembered Klaus from Stefan’s anecdotes of their childhood adventures. Turned out Klaus too was working in New York.

Soon, Caroline found herself spending more and more evenings at the bar. They must have seemed like an unlikely bunch of people. Hanging out with your ex is never a good idea, but doing so while dating his brother is insane, especially when said group also includes your cousin and your ex’s best friend. If shit were to ever hit the fan, it was clear who would be on whose side. But Caroline fit in perfectly, and it seemed that she was all the gang ever needed; an old friend with ties to both Elena and Stefan separate from their relationship.

That didn’t mean there was no residual awkwardness whatsoever. Despite Elena’s assurance of their “chill” living arrangements, she and Damon announced one day that they had found an apartment a few blocks away.

They never really brought up Stefan and Elena’s relationship anymore but when Damon insisted it was a good move because it wouldn’t be “weird” for Stefan anymore, the gang just laughed and ordered another round. In all fairness Matt the bartender had introduced a new drink they just _had_ to try. They clinked their glasses and changed the subject pretty soon.

And well, that’s how Caroline moved in with Stefan. He had an empty bedroom, she was crashing on a friend’s couch that perpetually stank of cat pee, and seriously, she would never be able to find an apartment like this with a bar downstairs.

“Here’s to even more daylight drinking,” she said, toasting her new life.

And that’s pretty much how she got to where she was now; on a Tuesday night, the same as every night, getting drunk off her ass.

.

.

Later, as she’s stumbling her way from the bathroom, Stefan sends her a worried glance. “Are you okay?”

“Not drunk enough.”

Klaus pauses in the middle of the story. “Bad day at work, huh?”

“When is it not?”

Katherine slides in besides her. “Guess who has a hot date this weekend? What?” she adds, looking at the expression on Stefan’s face.

Caroline doesn’t mind. She hasn’t come to the bar to wallow in pity. Katherine’s exploits are a welcome distraction from the mediocre mess that is her life.

Klaus clears his throat. “As long as it isn’t my brother.”

Katherine shoots him a smirk. “Not this time.” He makes a face.

She feels Stefan trying to catch her eye but concentrates instead on Klaus’ story she had interrupted before, something about a married woman he had been commissioned to paint a portrait of.

“-then she asked me to set up in the bedroom while she ‘freshened up’.”

“Did you paint her like one of your French girls?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well I would have if her husband hadn’t barged in-”

“GUYS!”        

They look up to see Damon and Elena standing at the booth. Instantly Caroline knows it’s something huge. Not only are they grinning stupidly, but Elena is shyly leaning into Damon, and Damon can’t take his eyes off her.

Caroline shifts so that Stefan is in her line of sight.

“We’re engaged!”

A cheer goes around their booth. The rest of the bar, used to such outbursts from their corner, ignores them.

“Oh my god, congratulations!”

“Finally, I was wondering when you would succumb to being chained down.”

“Hey, the only chaining that is allowed to happen is in the bedroom.”

“We’re going to let that slide this time. Since, you know, you’ll soon be an old boring _married_ couple.”

Amidst all the hugs and pats on the backs, Katherine’s declarations of an unforgettable bachelorette party, Klaus’ promises of lending his contacts in the art and photography industry, Caroline cuts her eyes to Stefan. For someone whose brother just got engaged, his smile is a little too tight around the corners.

.

.

“Of course, you’ll be the maid of honour.”

“Are you sure? Katherine seems to be keen on planning the bachelorette party.”

Elena snorts. “Trust me, she doesn’t want the work. And she was going to hijack the bachelorette planning anyway. So let her handle that.”

“Well, I’ll be happy to. Be your maid of honour I mean. I’ve been mentally planning the colour schemes and centrepieces since forever anyway.”

They’d moved the party upstairs after the bar had closed, and the mess in the living room is a throwback to their wild college days. Sometimes when she looks back at those times, she doesn’t know whether to envy or pity college Caroline’s enthusiasm for life.

Damon and Stefan step out for bagels at Elena’s insistence.

“At this time?”

“I’m craving bagels.”

Damon shrugs. “Anything for the bride-to-be.” And Elena gets such a soppy expression on her face that when she jumps up to kiss him, even Klaus the cynic smiles.

He’s currently pottering about in the kitchen, looking for the good scotch Stefan keeps hidden. He hadn’t even told Caroline, but if anyone could find it, it would be Klaus. Katherine is sprawled on the couch, snoring softly, her face illuminated by the flickering light of the television. There’s a moustache and beard drawn on her with permanent marker.

Elena yawns and covers her mouth, the diamond on her ring glinting in the soft light. “Damon’s going to ask Stefan to be his best man?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“Well, I’m not sure if he’ll say yes.”

“Of course he will. He’s moved on. And above all, Damon is his brother.”

She looks at her hopefully. “You think? I mean, you’ll know right? You live with him. You’ve known him since college.”

Caroline coughs. “Don’t worry, ‘Lena. It’ll be fine.”

Elena looks relieved as she sinks into the rug. “You know I never brought this up but, well, you and Stefan-”

“What about me and Stefan?”

“Well- I know the way you look at him- or looked at him, I don’t know. What I’m saying is, I mean not as if you need my permission or anything-”

“Permission for what, Elena?”

“I’m just saying that it’s okay. If you want to. Be with him, I mean.”

“Elena you’re drunk.” She laughs. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you when Damon comes back.”

.

.

Sitting on the fire escape, Caroline runs Elena’s words through her mind.

_I know the way you look at him._

It’s true she had a bit of an unrequited crush on him in college. Of course, after he met Elena, Caroline gave up any expectation of reciprocation. But they’re roommates now, and she’s pretty sure she’s gotten over her crush. So what if sometimes in the middle of the night, when she can’t get sleep, she wants to cross the hall and slip into his bed? She’s just lonely, is all.

God, she needs a smoke.

She’s aware of what her friends, including Elena, think. That after a string of failed relationships, when they’re older and wiser, they’ll find their way back to each other. That their paths are destined to cross.

Her friends know her future better than her. Caroline doesn’t want to examine how she feels about _that_.

She hears the scrape of the window opening, and turns to see Klaus squeezing past to sit beside her. Wordlessly he hands her a cigarette. Relief fills her body at the first inhale and she gives him a smile. He hums in response.

The house is dark and quiet. Damon and Elena left a while ago, Katherine is still passed out on the couch, and Stefan is sleeping in his room. Being a new teacher, they’d saddled him with all the early morning classes.

“This is the beginning of the end, you know.”

“Come on, marriage isn’t that bad.”

“I meant the group,” says Klaus. “Soon, Damon and Elena will move to the suburbs and start popping out babies. At the rate she’s going, Katherine will probably get murdered by a jealous wife for seducing her husband. Stefan will eventually find ‘The One’ until he comes across ‘The Next One’. In the end, it’ll just be you and I.”

“And what if _I_ decide I want to settle down?”

“Really? 2.5 kids, dog, white picket fence, is that what you want?”

She blows out a ring of smoke.

“Or you want to settle with Stefan, is that it? Be one of his ‘The Ones’?”

“Shut up.” She bumps his knee.

They watch the sun climb up the buildings in silence.

.

.

Despite Klaus’ ominous proclamations, the next few weeks go by pleasantly. Caroline meets Tyler at the gym. Not only does he have an impressive six pack, he recommends her to his mother, a high-profile socialite. Meredith has never been so pleased with her. Stefan and Valerie are going strong, already past the “I love you” phase. Klaus sells a couple of paintings, not that he needs the money. Katherine goes on a business trip to the Caribbean and come back with a glorious tan. Damon and Elena bask in their shared engagement glow and disgust everyone with their coupley happiness.

They’re sitting in their usual booth, straining to hear each other over the din. The bar’s more crowded than usual and Caroline scoffs at the “tourists” taking over their place. Damon and Elena bounce early, Katherine leaves for a late-night international conference call. The three of them who stay behind play Pictionary on napkins. Klaus and Caroline bicker over points while Stefan smiles at his phone from time to time.

“What are those two stick figures supposed to be doing?” For someone who is such a good painter, Klaus really sucks at Pictionary.

“Sex. They’re having sex, see.”

“It looks more like they’re killing each other.”

Then they start arguing about the logistics of stick figure sex-

“Look, when you draw it like that it just seems like an extra limb.”

“I mean, you can show oral sex, yeah.”

“Technically, aren’t all stick figures clones? That would mean having sex with yourself.”

-and it’s ridiculous but as the night progresses, she feels herself feeling rather flushed. All this talk about sex and positions is not good for her deprived self. She and Tyler haven’t done it yet and it’s been over a month. So when she starts becoming aware of the closeness of Klaus’ body, and the swift, sharp strokes of his hand when he draws, she knows she has to stop.

Stefan looks up from texting Val. “What, leaving already?”

She gathers her purse and chugs the rest of her drink. “Yeah, I’m going to Tyler’s.”

Klaus smirks. “Someone’s getting lucky tonight.”

She tosses them a smile and goes out into the street, pulling out her phone. Tyler’s number goes straight to voicemail.

She shrugs and decides to surprise him.

.

.

“Keep the change,” she tells the cab driver. She just wants to go up and curl into her bed.

The silence of her apartment presses down on her as she unlocks the door. She’s startled to see light under Stefan’s door.

“What are you doing here?” His book falls out of his hands as he rises.

“I thought I would surprise him. Instead I found him on the couch, his naked ass saluting me.” Stefan winces. “And oh, guess who was underneath him? Hayley. That’s right, I caught him fucking _my_ co-worker. _Surprise_.”

“Oh, Care.” His hand is a warm weight on her shoulder. She would cry but the tightness in her belly that has been building up throughout the night is hard to ignore. His eyes are sincere and kind and she has to keep chanting _Valerie Valerie Valerie_ inside her head in order to not do anything stupid.

“Do you want some soup? There’s some left in the fridge I can heat. We can watch a movie.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m going down to the bar. I need to…unwind.”

She’s going to fuck the first guy who shows any interest.

Stefan nods, suddenly understanding. He takes a step back and scratches his neck.

“Yeah, that’s a better idea.”

.

.

Klaus takes one look at her face, and immediately dispatches the girl he’s talking to.

“Hey, Genevieve, I’ll call you later. All right?”

“But you don’t even have my num-”

“Bye.”

He steers her into the booth and she says, “I don’t need pity, Klaus.” She’s a little irritated that she ran into him in her quest for a no-strings-attached, get-Tyler-out-of-her-mind hookup. That and his cologne is too distracting.

“No, what you need is alcohol.”

It turns out, she does. She smiles gratefully when he buys the next round. And the next one. And the next.

“I mean, out of everyone, _Hayley_?? I should have suspected something when I first introduced them. He wouldn’t have met her if not for me. How fucked up is that?”

“Yeah, Tyler’s an arse.”

“And no wonder she’d been looking extra smug at work nowadays. What does he see in her? She’s not even that hot.”

He laughs. “Definitely not.”

“You haven’t even seen her.”

“I trust your judgment, love.”

Klaus’ British accent becomes more pronounced when he’s drunk. He leans his head back on the vinyl and idly plays with the necklaces at his throat. Caroline tries not to notice the skin bared by the first few open buttons of his Henley.

She has a sudden urge to tell him everything. That what she found tonight hurt not only because she liked Tyler. More than that, it hurt because he chose _Hayley_ over her.

“I mean, I try so hard but I’m never enough. Elena just has to bat her eyelashes, and she gets everything. Most of the guys I dated in college were her leftovers. It’s stupid and I love her and I couldn’t be happier for her but it still _hurts_ , you know?

“And it sucks even more because I’m such a failure. I was supposed to conquer the city but I’m no more than a glorified assistant at Meredith’s. The biggest event I organised was something my _boyfriend_ got me. What was the point of moving here?”

All this while Klaus has been gazing at her with an unreadable expression. She thinks she’s gone too far. _Uh oh word vomit_. She doesn’t talk to Klaus about feelings. Ever. Or at least when she’s sober. Sure, there are times when their friends pass out and the two of them lie on the rooftop, looking at the stars, and talk. Or times when they go to clubs and instead of trying to pick up people they find themselves in a corner spilling their guts amidst the pulsating lights. But alcohol or some other form of intoxication is always involved and her heart sinks when he brushes off his Henley and pushes himself off the booth without a word.

Great, she’s probably scared him off. Even Klaus, whom she could always count on to make fun of Stefan’s hair with, doesn’t want to hang out with a mess like her.

She slams her glass down with a satisfying clunk and sluggishly drags a fry through some ketchup.

“What, you thought I would let you go on without a refill?”

Klaus swaps her empty glass with a pleasantly full one and slides in next to her instead of opposite her. Some of the beer sloshes over her fingers but she doesn’t care.

“I’m not usually the one to use cheesy phrases-”

“Then don’t.” She raises a hand. “I don’t want to hear some crap about how I have potential to do great things or how I’m strong, beautiful and full of light. I just want to get wasted and talk about inconsequential shit.”

He exhales. “Good, because I _hate_ those cheesy phrases.”

And that’s how they wind up discussing the various modus operandi Katherine employs to get laid (her favourite is The Damsel-in-Distress); they laugh at how whipped Damon is, and how Stefan will never complete his epic novel (Klaus had once replaced pages of his manuscript with erotic fanfiction). The alcohol keeps flowing and Caroline has trouble remembering why she was so upset in the first place. Soon, the hand that was resting on the booth behind her is drawing circles on her bare shoulder, and Caroline’s mind starts going to dangerous places.

He’s ridiculously hot, she muses, and probably good in bed. Plus, he’d know how to successfully separate the physical from the emotional. He’s exactly what she needs right now.

She must have been staring at him too long, for he pauses in his diatribe against instant coffee (“If you think about it, it’s just ground bean powder added to water. Disgusting.”) and raises a questioning brow at her.

They’re sitting too close to each other, his warm leg pressed against her denim-covered thighs. Unwittingly, her eyes slide towards his lips.

He clears his throat and looks away and it’s like a bucket of cold water has been poured over her. She widens the distance between them and pretends to read a text on her phone.

“I should get going. It’s getting late.” His voice is light and casual.

“Sure,” she replies, not meeting his eye. “Thanks…for all this.”

Her cheeks are still burning as they pay their tab and she struggles to wear her coat. Cologne and scotch fills her nose as Klaus finally takes pity on her and helps her push her arms through the holes. Then suddenly they’re outside in the cold street and he’s saying goodnight and telling the driver “81st and 1st”, sliding into the backseat so fast that she thinks she imagined him stopping to turn the collar of her coat up, his fingers lingering over her pulse point.

.

.

It’s even more embarrassing than if they’d actually kissed. How can she pretend something didn’t happen if that something actually didn’t?

It’s easy for Klaus to act nonchalant as the gang disses Tyler on her behalf. Elena offers to dig up any dirt on him using all her lawyerly resources. Katherine asks if she wants her to trash his car. Damon promises to send over some vintage whiskey. She tells them that she just wants to forget it ever happened. Caroline decides she’s going to suppress all that anger and bitterness until those negative feelings presumably turn into a tumour.

There’s a dangerous moment when Stefan wants to know what she’d done at the bar last night-

“We just hung out, got trashed,” Klaus replies smoothly. “I may or may not have told her about the journals you used to keep.”

“No! No one was supposed to know about,” Stefan splutters.

Damon fist-bumps Klaus and they all try to coax the diaries’ hiding place out of an indignant Stefan.

-and it’s all fine except for the heavy feeling in her stomach that maybe she’s overreacting. Sure, she and Klaus have always had this flirtatious edge to their interactions, and there was this one time Stefan’s date had mistaken them for a couple so they’d played along, acting all obnoxious and coupley, cooing and using silly nicknames till they’d gotten on everyone’s nerves. It was all harmless, really.

But now that she knows Klaus doesn’t see her that way, she’s actually kind of glad nothing happened. If the subject is ever brought up (and she’ll do everything possible to never bring it up) she can always dismiss her behaviour as a drunken overture. Now that the night is behind her, she and Klaus can go back to being friends without any messy hormones coming into play.

.

.

“Hey, is it only me or is Klaus avoiding me?”

Katherine frowns. “Why would he be avoiding you?”

“No reason.”

.

.

“The pizza is still disgusting,” Stefan mumbles in between bites.

“I know, I love it.”

They’re in a diner they’d been searching for a long, long time. Caroline and Stefan had eaten lunch here once, when they’d been new to the city, out on one of their weekend college trips. The pizza tasted like cardboard and the soda was flat, but sitting at the window table, watching two homeless bums fight over a joint, they’d finally fallen in love with New York.

“How did you find this place again?”

“This guy was complaining to, uh, Klaus about how bad the pizza was and when he described the place… I just knew.”

Stefan wipes his mouth and smiles. “I’ll probably get food poisoning but this makes me feel so much better.”

Valerie had realised that she was stagnating in her job and wanted to go back to school. That school just happened to be on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

In a way, Caroline kind of admires Valerie. To walk out of a long-term relationship and move to an entirely different continent? She remembers her own trip to Asia and her resolve to do Europe next time. _Hah_. Next time.

“Val wasn’t good enough for you,” is what she tells Stefan. “I mean she clearly wasn’t as invested in the relationship. It’s actually good you found that out now and not later.”

“True. I just wonder if I’ll ever be enough. For _anyone_.”

Oh, she knows all about not being enough.

“Hey, you will be. You _are_. I’m Team Stefan, remember?”

“Yes, you are. You always are.” He smiles softly.

Caroline looks down and finishes the rest of her pizza.

.

.

It’s a slow night and the rest seem to be running late. She strikes up a conversation with a dark-haired guy at the bar. Mike the neurosurgeon seems to be promising, and he even laughs at her a Roman walk into a bar joke.

“Hey,” -she feels a warm hand on her back- “I have to show you something.”

She frowns. “I’m kind of in the middle of a conversation, Klaus.”

“It’s urgent.” And for some reason she allows him to pilot her towards the booth.

(Maybe because this is the first direct conversation he’d had with her since that night.)

“What, Klaus? I was going to ask him out.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Who, that guy? He came in here with his _wife_ the other day. I did you a favour.”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that it?”

“No, there’s something else.”

“What?”

“So I was thinking of your ramblings that night you dumped Tyler.” She nods, suddenly a little nervous.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. Here.” He fishes a glossy business card out of his pocket and passes it over. She reads the printed words silently. It’s a huge PR firm, a name she recognises from Meredith’s envious ravings.

“Not a lot of people know this but they have a vacant position. I went to art school with this guy. Call him, and send your resume.”

“But it’s on the other side of the country-”

“Promise me you’ll apply.”

“I don’t even have enough experience-”

“Promise me.”

She smiles.

.

.

It’s the opening of Klaus’s exhibition and she’s the last to arrive. The dry cleaners had taken their own sweet time with her dress but she didn’t want to consider any other option. She’d been looking forward to wearing it since ages; it’s midnight blue with a sweetheart neckline, the cinched waist giving way to a full-length skirt with a slit.

As she looks around at the paintings and the proud way Klaus is talking about them to the attendees, she realises that it’s all about putting your name on something you’ve created. Leaving a mark. They ridicule Klaus for having the luxury of being an artist due to his massive trust fund, but when Caroline takes stock of the raw emotion in brave display in front of strangers, she thinks it’s much more than a hobby.

Standing in front of a piece simply titled “Snowflake” is where he finds her.

“So, what do you think?”

“Well, it’s a snowflake.” She doesn’t mention how the loneliness beneath the paint makes her insides ache.

“I didn’t know my work was so literal.”

“Hey guys!”

They turn to see Elena moving towards them, Damon at her side. Her eyes are bright and she’s waving at the waiters.

“Free champagne, guys!” It is only then that Caroline notices the tight grip Damon has on his fiancée’s waist.

Klaus groans. “How much has she had?”

Damon shrugs not-too-apologetically. “She hasn’t eaten anything today.”

“When is the baby due?” Elena cheerfully asks a pot-bellied man.

So they spend the rest of the evening shielding Elena from the other guests. They take over a corner table and keep a watch over her. Katherine flirts outrageously with a server to bring them a more substantial entrée because _seriously, who eats oysters at an art gallery?_

“Here drink this,” says Damon. “Yes, I promise it’s vodka.” He’s been trying to get Elena to drink water for the past half hour.

Caroline would help but she’s honestly having too much fun seeing Klaus get worked up over any scenes Elena may cause.

.

.

We’re terrible adults, Caroline realises.

Because instead of retiring home after a night of too much champagne and strawberries, they troop to the bar for a round of even more alcohol. They strike a strange scene, a couple of grown-ups wearing suits and gowns, laughing at the top of their voices, drinking cheap whiskey.

They eventually head upstairs and she finds herself sitting next to Klaus. He’s resting his ankle over his other knee and the end of his pants rise up to reveal brightly-coloured socks patterned with cartoon wolves. She finds it fascinating.

Damon and Elena leave before Elena passes out, but not before she pukes all over her lovely red dress. Shoving a sticky Elena into the shower and looking for a clean shirt for her to wear should’ve been sobering, but Caroline is still pretty drunk as she lingers in front of the refrigerator, wondering if cereal with orange juice would taste good.

“Don’t let Stefan see you abusing the cereal like that,” remarks Klaus, leaning against the kitchen door. “That man takes his breakfast foods too seriously.”

“Well, it’s a good thing for us he’s sound asleep on his bed.” She hadn’t meant for it to come out so flirty but in her defence, Klaus had just rolled up his sleeves and opened the top two buttons of his shirt. It’s a fact that all men look good in dishevelled tuxes. Nothing to do with Klaus specifically, she tells herself.

“Has Katherine jumped off the fire escape yet?” She’d been threatening to do that for the past half an hour after one of them had apparently offended her Bulgarian sensibilities. Caroline didn’t even remember what the issue was.

“Katherine left, remember? Damon said he was dropping her.”

Oh. She vaguely recollects Katherine kissing her neck in farewell. Then she realises that apart from an unconscious Stefan, it’s just her and Klaus in the apartment.

Caroline clears her throat. “Uh, yeah. I know that. Want some cereal?”

Klaus shakes his head. “I’m just going to have some water.”

There’s a weird moment when he’s staring at her, a peculiar expression on his face. His hand reaches up to tug at his loose bow tie.

She wonders if he wants _her_ to get him water, which obviously isn’t going to happen- oh, she’s blocking his way to the sink.

But Klaus doesn’t wait for her to move out of the way. He places his hands on her waist as he slides past her to the sink. Caroline flushes, and tries to concentrate on gripping her cereal bowl.

“It was a nice exhibition,” she says once he finishes drinking water. “I like your paintings.”

Klaus hums. He’s suddenly standing closer; she can smell the scotch off of him.

“You should do more portraits, though.”

“It’s hard to find captivating muses.”

“What about that wife who watched Titanic too many times?” she jokes weakly in an effort to ignore the way he’s idly tracing patterns on her bare arm.

“Hmm? Oh, that was merely a favour.”

“Seems like you always fulfil your favours.”

“Yes, I try to never leave anyone _unsatisfied_.”

She’s about to point out that they’re talking like they’re in a cheesy porno when Klaus leans in, removes the cereal bowl from her death grip, places it on the counter, and kisses her.

His lips are soft and hesitant at first. Once she gets over her shock and responds enthusiastically, they turn urgent. She finds her back hitting the fridge, his hands roaming all over her body. She doesn’t pull away, not even the handle digs into her side. Not even when his thigh slides into place between her legs and makes her gasp.

They’re clumsy and sloppy but Caroline doesn’t care. They’re all tongue and teeth and she even bites him once. There’s an embarrassing moment when her hand knocks over the cereal bowl and the spoon ricochets and hits his ribs. But Klaus just ignores the citrus-soaked cereal pooling around his feet and buries his head in her neck.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to rip this dress off ever since I saw it,” he murmurs. The butterflies in her stomach spontaneously combust into fireworks.

“Hey, no ripping,” she warns him.

She feels him smirking as he places kisses down her neck. “The whole fucking night, _Caroline_. That’s the only thing I thought about.”

Jesus Christ. She’s going to explode.

But as he slides down the straps of her dress, her thoughts momentarily flicker with some semblance of rationality. _What are you doing? You’re kissing the living daylights out of_ Klaus _!_

“No more talking,” she tells her brain and Klaus. And it’s only as they’re heading towards her bedroom, bumping into every piece of furniture because they can’t keep their hands off each other, does she stop thinking.

.

.

It’s a good thing the other side of the bed is empty when she wakes up because the first thing Stefan does is knock on her door and ask if she wants waffles.

“What time did you get up?” she asks him.

“Just now.” He yawns, running a hand through his hair. “Sleep well?”

“Very. Now I heard something about waffles?”

When they meet at the bar later, for a moment, she’s worried that the others might suspect something. But Katherine makes a joke about Elena being out of it last night and the gang teases her about the time she saluted a snooty art buyer and then the conversation smoothly veers towards one of Stefan’s students.

“I think she’s the one who tripped the fire alarm. She hates me.”

“Poor Stefan,” Katherine coos. “You and your compulsive need for everyone to like you.”

“Hey, that’s not true.”

“It is,” Damon chimes in. “Remember Nick, that bully who stole your lunch every day? You always made sure you carried barbecue fries, _his_ favourite.”

“I’ve never understood why you Americans call it fries,” Klaus grumbles.

Then they start arguing about British vs. American English, and it’s one of the most spirited debates they’ve had in a while. There’s a lot of table thumping and trash talking involved.

Damon violently waves a fork in the air. “Americans made the language practical! Look at the spellings, they don’t match the pronunciations!”

“Americans dumbed things down, if you ask me,” Katherine says, knocking back her drink.

“What are you saying, _you’re_ American.”

“I have family roots in Bulgaria.”

Elena rolls her eyes. “That side of the family migrated like a million years ago.”

“I think the only thing going for British English is the accent,” Stefan notes.

Klaus scoffs.

“No, it’s true. Even the dirtiest of things sound proper and respectable in a British accent.”

Naturally they try out Stefan’s theory. First, with Katherine’s fake one, and then with Klaus’s real one. Of course that leads to them trying out different accents, and Caroline is cracking up so hard she’s almost forgotten what they were arguing about in the first place.

.

.

She’s out shopping with Elena when she almost tells her she slept with Klaus.

Elena is in a confessional mood, and more than once she brings up the second thoughts she’s having about her impending marriage. Caroline feels compelled to match that serious admission with one of her own. A secret for a secret.

But she doesn’t.

She knows what Elena will say. About messed up group dynamics. How her own failure in love probably spurred her to fall into Klaus’s arms. And _what about Stefan?_

Instead she spends the rest of the afternoon talking to Elena, telling her that it’s normal to have doubts (as if she would know; this is just what people say in movies), that she’s never seen a more in-love couple than Damon and Elena (true) and that they would be disgusting if not for their combined adorableness.

At the end of it, Elena’s in a much better state and Caroline doesn’t feel it but it seems as if they’ve stepped away from a precipice.

It’s good she didn’t come clean, she thinks as she watches Elena enthusiastically examine china patterns. They were both seriously drunk. What’s the point of worrying about an incident that’s never going to happen again?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback, guys! Since this is AH I keep worrying the characters are too OOC or the dialogues don't work. Hence it's really important that I know what you guys think of this story.   
> I hope you like this one because I had a lot of fun writing it :)

Either the club is too loud, or she’s getting too old.

Really, they don’t hang out at nightclubs that often anymore but Klaus knows the bouncer at Hybrid so that’s where the gang (except Stefan who has a hot date) ends up one Friday night.

She spots Damon at the bar, chatting up a girl. His fiancée is a few metres away, twirling her hair and giggling at a guy. She watches them aggressively collect phone numbers and compare the tally. It’s their usual wager and they’re both out to win; a lot of things besides pride are at stake.

Klaus hands her and Katherine tequila shots and the three of them clink their glasses before downing the clear liquid.

Katherine yells something at her. “WHAT?” she shouts back.

“Let’s dance!”

Yes, the music’s too loud but the thumping beats and flickering lights help drown out her thoughts. As they dance to the rhythm of a popular song, singing along to the lyrics, Caroline has one of those out-of-body experiences. She’s not Caroline Forbes anymore, she’s not the failure who moved to New York with such big dreams. It’s like she’s at the fringes of the scene, watching her body writhing with the others on the dancefloor. She could be an extra from a teen feel-good movie, dancing away her worries.She could be anybody. She’s never felt the _moment_ so acutely before.

“My god, what did you put in the shots?” she yells, laughing as she collapses ungainly on a couch in the corner of the club.

Klaus casts an amused glance over her flushed face. “Why? Are you seeing things?”

“No, I just- I think I finally understood what it’s like living in the present.”

“They do say that alcohol borrows happiness from tomorrow.”

“Woah, that was deep.”

“I read that at the back of a bathroom stall.”

“But seriously, I don’t even care about tomorrow. That’s Future Caroline’s headache.”

“Literally,” Klaus points out.

And they laugh like it’s the funniest thing ever.

.

.

There’s a moment of confusion when they try to figure out the logistics of splitting cabs.

“We’ll go with Katherine,” Elena offers, “since she’s closer to our place.” She’d won the bet this time and the smug smirk on her face is yet to fade.

Caroline leans on Katherine, staggering a little. “No, it makes more sense for Kat to come with me. Direct route.” And then she laughs because it’s like they’re fighting over Katherine.

“I can hitch a ride with them, then.” says Klaus.

“I thought you’d go home with that red-haired girl. She looked more than willing.” She looks around as if the girl is hiding behind the bushes.

Klaus shakes his head. “The bartender happens to be a very jealous ex of hers. Not worth the trouble.”

It’s a tight squeeze in the cab with Katherine taking more than half the space. Caroline tries folding in her friend’s legs but they remain stubbornly sprawled.

“Move over, god.”                                             

“Mname’s not god.”

Klaus is silently looking outside the window, his arm round the back of the seat. Next to him, Caroline perches tensely on the edge of the seat, not wanting to lean back and relax.

“Hey,” says Katherine abruptly. “You can drop me off here.”

Caroline frowns. “That’s not your apartment.”

“I know. It’s Elijah’s.”

Awkward, she thinks, looking at the expression on Klaus’s face.

“Um, that wasn’t the plan. We drop Klaus, then you and finally me.”

“I can crash at Elijah’s place. He’s always up for _crashing_ ,” Katherine insists.

Klaus sighs. “Just let her go.”

Katherine gives him a sunny smile as he tells the cab driver to stop the vehicle. She remains steady on her feet till she reaches the entrance of the building where she greets the doorman familiarly. Then she turns to wave at them, mouthing _love you guys!_

For some reason, Caroline doesn’t shift over to all the available space. Klaus doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seems preoccupied, his mind probably on the whole Elijah-Katherine thing. She’d found the mildly horrified look on his face adorable.

Wait, since when does she find Klaus adorable?

She’s processing its disturbing implications when Klaus looks over at her, and suddenly she's struck with the realisation that she doesn’t want the night, this night where she’s enjoying the present so much, to end.

Klaus’s eyes mirror the same want.

“So?”

“So.”

“My place?”

By the time the cab rolls to a stop outside his apartment on the Upper East Side, she’s practically straddling his lap, and his hands are all over the bare expanse of her thigh.

They finally stop making out like horny teenagers when the driver clears his throat. Klaus thrusts a hundred-dollar bill in his hands. They don’t wait for change.

They manage to restrain themselves till the elevator. The doorman shoots them a knowing glance but Caroline decides to deal with that later. For Klaus is pressing her to the back of the elevator and before she knows it her legs are wrapped around him and they’re rocking into each other.

Klaus slams his hand onto the stop button and the elevator comes to a screeching halt. She helps him shed off his pants and arches into him as his hands find their way beneath her dress.

The sex is rough and fast and ends way too quickly for her. Klaus is still wearing his shirt, and she hasn’t even cast off her heels.

“Elevator sex: check,” she pants as the car starts climbing up.

“You have a list?” he asks, amused, buckling his pants.

“Of course.”

She’s still adjusting her dress when the doors open. Thankfully the hallway is deserted.

Caroline pauses. She doesn’t know the protocol for this. What is she supposed to do if they’ve already had sex before even reaching the apartment?

Klaus steps out of the elevator. “What are you waiting for?” He turns back, grinning. “We need to check off the rest of the list.”

She accepts his proffered hand.

.

.                                                          

She’s sitting in Damon and Elena’s apartment, smoking the cigars Katherine’s brought. Elena had banned them, but well, she isn’t home yet and Caroline is all for _livin’_ _on_ _the_ _edge_ nowadays.

“God, is it only me or are these cigars heavenly?”

Katherine smirks. “It’s the forbidden aspect of it all. The lure of the dangerous. Elena can come in anytime and catch us dropping ash on her precious sofa. And that, my friend, only sweetens the experience.”

She watches Katherine’s blood-red lips wrap around the cigar and she nods absently. She’d always known Katherine was a knockout, but only in an abstract way. Now she finally understands the allure.

“I mean 99 percent of romance fiction comprises of forbidden love.”

“But that’s fiction,” Caroline points out. “Forbidden love in real life is too messy and complicated.”

“It’s the principle of it. Take Damon. I would be blind not to appreciate his hotness. And I know sex with him would be out of the world, not only due to the stories Elena tells us, but mainly because, you know, he’s my cousin’s going-to-be-husband. Not that I’m going to,” she adds upon the look on Caroline’s face, “have sex with him.”

As they gradually work through the bottle of scotch they’d “borrowed” from Damon’s cabinet, she wonders about the forbidden men in her life. She thinks of Klaus, and that if she’d dated Stefan, sleeping with his best friend would have definitely violated some code or the other. Instead Caroline feels she’s stuck in that grey, ignoble area with Stefan. Of _we’d almost dated and I still can’t get over you_. And really, if she’d slept with Klaus after getting out of a relationship with Stefan, her position would be clearer. She would know how she’s supposed to feel.

Because now, she doesn’t know where she is or what she wants. Most of all, she doesn’t know why she keeps expecting to feel guilty about what she did in the cab and how she raced home in the morning before Stefan could wake up and find her missing. And she doesn’t know why she’s surprised when she feels nothing.

.

.

When she enters the bar, she sees Damon talking to a red-headed girl. He’s clutching a slip of paper when he joins her at the booth.

“She wanted me to give her number to Klaus,” he explains. “Cause he left before she could. She remembered me from the club we went to that day.”

“Oh, you mean the girl with the crazy ex of a bartender?”

“Is she? Maybe that’s someone else. She said she just moved to the city.”

She shrugs. “So what’s going on?”

“Oh, you know. The same old.”

They don’t usually hang out much without Elena present and the awkwardness between them is just starting to make her consider going back upstairs, when he speaks.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“Sometimes I miss being single.”

She stops circling the rim of her glass. “Really?”

“Of course. The excitement of meeting someone new. Of getting to know a person. The delicious uncertainty of where the night is leading. After that, starting all over again. Being on the look-out constantly. And then there are the little things, like when you enter a room and make a mental note of who’s attractive and who you have a chance with.”

The conversation is taking a turn she’s ill-equipped to handle. This is why, she tells herself, she doesn’t hang out with Damon alone.

“And then, the times when I _do_ enter a room, and take note of the person who _does_ captures my attention, it’s Elena. It’s always Elena. And that’s when I find out, all over again, how lucky I am.”

She stares at him.

“My vows. Those were my wedding vows, Blondie. Or at least an early draft.”

“Oh my god, you could’ve told me! I was like where did all these deep dark confessions come from?” He laughs loudly at the expression on her face.

“Awww did I make you feel feelings?”

“Shut up, jerk. You know,” she adds playfully, “that tone of wistfulness when you were talking about the single life sounded _pretty_ genuine to me.”

He crunches an ice cube in his mouth.

“Just because I miss being single doesn’t mean I _want_ to be single, Blondie.”

.

.

Damon and Elena’s engagement party is far from a classy affair. But oh, it is _so_ much fun.

She’d planned an elegant dinner at their favourite Parisian restaurant but when the guest list had grown exponentially at the last minute and frustrating phone conversations with the supercilious manager who spoke with a (probably fake) French accent led nowhere, Caroline suggested they just have it at her apartment.

Predictably, it turned into a wild all-night rager.

She drops onto the couch with a small _oomph_ and smiles at Stefan who’s narrowly watching Damon’s co-worker peruse his bookshelf with an overflowing glass of beer.

“Who reads Kafka anymore?” The jerk chuckles at the girl he’s trying to impress. “Pretentious douches, that’s who.”

Stefan grits his teeth.

“Relax, Stefan. Think of this as a wedding gift for your brother.”

“Speaking of, where are Damon and Elena anyway?”

“That’s Elena over there.” She squints. “Wait, why is Elena making out with that random dude?”

“That’s Katherine.”

“God, they really look alike don’t they?”

“How drunk are you?”

“I’m not, actually. I had a very tiring day at work. Hayley was being such a bitch. And all this-” she gestures at the laughing, drinking, dancing crowd around them “- is a little overwhelming.”

Klaus drops down on the other side of Stefan.

“Guys, don’t go into the bathroom.”

Stefan groans. “Who is it this time?”

“Damon and Elena, actually.”

“ _That’s_ where they are. Christ, I need more beer.”

Stefan leaves an awkward space between them on the couch that neither attempt to breach. She can’t help noticing that Klaus’s cheeks are flushed and he’s smiling a little too much. His top button’s undone and she thinks of reaching over and undoing the rest of his buttons.

Nope, she’s not going there tonight.

She’s talking to Elena’s gynaecologist (why would Elena invite her gynaecologist to her engagement party?) when their neighbour Mr. Kapoor knocks on the door. She ropes in Katherine and the two of them smile sweetly and flip their hair enough times to get him to not call the cops.

They turn down the music after that. Stefan shuts himself in his room after someone squirts out all the gel of his hair products into the sink. Damon and Elena leave after enough people walk in on them in the bathroom. Caroline refills her glass of wine in the kitchen and hums to herself. She spots Klaus across the room talking to a familiar-looking blonde woman and frowns briefly.

.

.

She’s sitting with a sloshed Katherine on the couch who’s yelling at the TV, while the last of the party-goers stumble their way out.

“Oh my god!” shouts Katherine. “How dumb is Maria? Can’t she see that’s the evil twin? He’s wearing an _eyepatch_ , for heaven’s sake!”

“Cut her some slack, Kat. She just found out her fiancée is actually her half-brother.”

“God, her father’s like the biggest slut of the show.”

They both gasp as the identity of the sinister criminal mastermind who’s been murdering everyone is revealed.

“I knew it!” Katherine chucks popcorn at the screen. “Maria’s aunt! I knew it from the minute we saw her.” Caroline narrowly prevents her from throwing the popcorn bowl at the TV.

“Hey, Kat, why is that man staring at us?”

Katherine gives him a dismissive glance and snorts. “That’s Elena’s colleague, Randy or Dandy or something. I might have made out with him a little.”

“Well, he’s determinedly making his way here.”

Katherine turns to her with slightly panicked eyes. “I can’t deal with this now, Care. Get rid of him, please.”

Caroline sighs but stands up to waylay the hopeful suitor. He leaves, a little disappointed but not much, especially after she tells him of the many times Katherine puked that night. In excruciating detail.

“Yeah, she was spewing like a hydrant,” she says before shutting the front door on him. “Chunks of shrimp everywhere. It made me wonder because we didn’t even _have_ shrimp. Where did the shrimp come from, Randy?”

“That was inspired,” whispers a voice behind her.

“Oh my god, stop creeping on people like that, Klaus!"

She nudges his shoulder with hers and they turn in time to see a grinning Katherine give her a thumbs up, pick up her purse, and stumble towards the door.

Caroline snags her arm before she can leave. “Hey, where do you think you’re going? You’re too drunk.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Elijah’s picking me up.”

Klaus and Caroline give each other a look.

“Seriously, look.” She shows them a text from Elijah on her phone. _I’m waiting downstairs_.

Klaus sighs. “I’ll walk down with you.”

Caroline closes the door behind them and rests her back on it. She longs to flop down on the couch and go to sleep but the living room is beyond trashed.

“So much for being the only sober person left,” she mutters to herself, picking up a dirty glass.

She hears footsteps on the landing and looks up to see Klaus already back. He leans against the wall and watches her clean up with a lazy smirk.

“A little help, maybe? Before Stefan wakes up and gets a heart attack?”

He rolls his eyes but bends down to help her. “You know, if Stefan is so bothered by all this, why isn’t he the one cleaning up?”

“This bothers me too.”

“But not as much as him,” he points out, shaking out a garbage bag for her to chuck leftover food in. “My point is you shouldn’t always be the one doing all the work.”

“I’m not doing this by myself. You’re here.”

Klaus rubs his face with a frustrated groan. “It’s like you’re even more obtuse than usual when you’re not drunk,” he mutters. “Caroline. _You don’t owe him anything_.”

Caroline bristles. “What, you think I’m a pushover? A doormat? Well, I apologise for caring about my friends, which let me remind you, includes you as well,” she says, crushing an empty juice carton with more force than necessary.

“There’s a difference between loyalty and just blind- ugh, you know what, never mind. Let’s just forget about it.”

“ _Fine_.”

“Fine.”

.

.

Against all odds, they end up in bed together that night.

Honestly, she hadn’t expected it to happen at all. Not only was she painfully sober, but royally pissed off at him. This combination keeps her wide awake, tossing and turning the whole time.

(She ignores the part of her brain that says there’s a sliver of truth in what Klaus had said.)

Cursing to herself, she stomps towards the living room where he’s made a bed for himself on the couch and chucks a pillow at his head. “Wake up, asshole.”

“The fuck?” He immediately jolts awake, rubbing his head. He reflexively throws a look towards Stefan’s door but his room’s dark and silent.

“Take off your clothes,” hisses Caroline.

That makes him sit up straight. “What?”

“Take off all your clothes and come inside,” she says, her back already facing him. “Quick, else I’m starting without you.”

Caroline didn’t think it would be possible, but the sex this time is even better. She takes control, tying his hands to the headboard with a scarf and riding him until his eyes cross and he can barely get a word out.

Later, as they’re lying side by side, catching their breath, she says, “This can’t keep happening again and again.”

Klaus rolls over to face her. “Why not? We’re both consenting adults. And the sex is clearly amazing.” The awestruck expression on his face is yet to disappear and her body buzzes with the thrill of having so much power over him.

“As long it’s only sex.”

He nods. “Only sex.”

.

.

They’re not as careful this time.

Stefan runs into Klaus on the way to the bathroom. A minute earlier, and he would’ve caught him emerging from her bedroom.

“Oh hey, Stef. Caroline said it was okay I crash on the couch. Since it was getting late and all. Had too much to drink.” She cautiously pokes her head out of her room.

“Don’t worry, it’s cool. Why are you in such a hurry to leave though? Stay for breakfast.”

“I have this meeting with-”

“Yeah, Klaus.” She pads out to the living room and makes a big show of just waking up. “Stay. It’s Stefan’s turn to make breakfast.” There’s an awkward moment when both their eyes trace her movements when she stretches to grab a sweatshirt.

She pulls it over her tank and asks, “Hey, is the coffee on?”

And as the three of them sit and eat the pancakes Stefan flips with undisguised showmanship, she tells herself this isn’t weird at all.


	3. Chapter 3

 

It's Saturday and Klaus already has a Cosmo ready for her when she slides into the booth. It would never have occurred to her to order a Cosmo, but now she can't quite imagine drinking anything else. _Smug bastard_.

She toasts him as the rest of the gang continue bickering over, well, sex. Really, they take inappropriate conversations in public to another level.

"I mean, it's all in the technique. That's the most objective way you can judge sex."

"Well, emotion and passion is what constitutes good sex. And since different things work for different people, what you call technique is as subjective as the feeling behind it."

Katherine shakes her head. "I don't know, guys. There was this phase when I went without sex for months, and the first guy I did it with, it was like the best sex ever for me then. When normally he would have been a 6 at best. It all depends on the context."

"I read this article," Stefan adds, "that said phrases like 'best sex ever' are retrospective. You can only make a statement like that sometime after the deed has occurred. Therefore, your judgment can never be accurate because it's compromised by your memories and what takes place after the act."

"Where did you read this, Teen Vogue?" Damon grins.

"I don't think so," says Caroline. "I mean it's more of an instinctual thing. You just know it." Elena nods in agreement.

"Really?" Katherine takes a sip of her whiskey and the glint in her eyes makes her squirm. "Who has been your best sex ever?'

"Oh, um, well there was this guy I met while I was in India."

She waves a hand. "Pssh foreigners aren't counted. Or at least foreigners you meet abroad. No one else?"

"Um, no I don't think so," she replies, extremely careful not to look at Klaus.

.

.

Later, she corners Katherine in the bathroom. "What was that?"

"What was what?" she asks, eyes intent on her reflection.

"Why were you so…insistent with the best sex ever thing? And why did you keep glancing meaningfully at Klaus and then me the whole time?"

Katherine snaps her compact shut. "Someone's defensive."

She crosses her arms. "I'm just trying to figure out what you're insinuating."

"Look, I thought you guys hooked up."

"What?"

"Yeah. That day in the cab? You were totally making eyes at each other, it was so obvious. I mean I might've been drunk but I wasn't blind. And oh, Damon and Elena's engagement. When he 'crashed' on the couch."

"Oh my god, Katherine, nothing ever happened. We're friends." It takes all her drama skills to school her features into a slightly incredulous, horrified and amused expression.

The brunette surveys her from the top of her mascara wand. "If you say so," she says simply, walking out.

And though Caroline knows she's dodged a bullet, she feels like the cavalry is yet to attack.

.

.

She's waiting for Jesse, a cute nurse she'd met at the bar a few days ago. They're supposed to go on a date but now she wonders if he's ever going to show up. She signals Matt the bartender for another drink and sighs.

"Hey."

Klaus is leaning at the bar to her right, and her gaze involuntarily travels over the length of his body before snapping back to his amused eyes.

"Oh, hey."

"All dressed up, I see."

"Yeah, I'm going out with Jesse. Remember him? Cute smile, killer eyes?"

"Ah _that_ guy. Well, have fun. Use a condom."

"Yeah, yeah I will."

The conversation should have ended but there's a beat where Klaus looks at her intently, as if he's figuring out what to say. Finally, he leans in and-

"You know, I'm hurt."

"Why?"

"That you didn't mention me when you were talking about your best sex ever. I mean I still have the scars on my back to prove it."

"Oh ha ha," she replies lightly, ignoring the way her heart's racing. He's so close that she can make out the green flecks in his eyes. And even though his head is cocked playfully and stance casual, she still says, "I know we've talked about this already, but you can't tell anybody. Nobody at all. We can't let the others know what happened." _Multiple times_.

"Of course, love." Oh god, she hates it when he says that. "I'll take it to my grave." And then he straightens up, flashes her a knowing smirk, and moves away to the booth, an extra swagger to his step as if he knows her eyes are on him.

.

.

It's really not fair, she thinks.

For even before they get started on the main course, she knows her night is ruined.

She stares into Jesse's eyes (really really pretty eyes), and she's reminded of the way _his_ eyes were crinkled with amusement earlier.

Her glance is caught by Jesse's hands as he animatedly narrates a story, and she thinks of _him_ and his skilful artist fingers and the things he can do with them.

And when she catches a whiff of Jesse's cologne while he's helping her to her coat, her knees almost buckle because it's the same one _he_ wears.

"Stupid Klaus," she mutters after she politely (and with a hint of genuine regret) declines an invitation for drinks at Jesse's apartment. "Stupid son of a Mikael."

She's still cursing when she hails a cab and gives the driver the address. He probably thinks she's a lunatic, raving and muttering under her breath the whole time.

But it's worth it, she feels, when she sees the look on Klaus's face as he opens his door.

"What-"

"Shut up," she advises him.

And her body knocks into him with such force that he almost loses his balance and when her lips crash into his, he finally does shut up.

.

.

"So how was it?"

"How was what?"

"The date with Jesse." Elena slides into the booth.

"Oh it was _really_ good. Great."

"Ah, that's why you seemed so chipper today," Stefan says.

She can't help but smile.

Soon the rest of the gang troops in and the evening passes by quickly as they try and cheer up Damon, who's going through a rough patch at work. She doesn't quite understand his job, just that it's a boring corporate one, but no one deserves to be down on a night like this (is what she tells him) and before long, they're doing shots and daring each other to do silly things.

Caroline is at that stage where she finds practically everything hilarious and so what if she's leaning into Klaus more than usual, she's pretty sure no one is paying much attention, what with the alcohol making their surroundings soft and out-of-focus.

Stefan dares Elena to convince the tiny blonde girl at the bar that she's a vampire, and they giggle as the poor girl's eyes go wide as saucers.

"Yeah, this is totally a bar for the undead," Elena says seriously. "Like that show. True Blood."

"But they have, like, garlic fries on the menu?" she squeaks.

"That's a test. If you order garlic fries, they know you're not a vampire. That you are human. And you know what happens next…"

The girl bolts so fast out of the bar she leaves her drink untouched.

"Cheers," Elena picks up the girl's glass and drains it. Then she grins at them. "Okay, who's next?"

An unfamiliar redhead approaches Elena and they watch as she leans into Elena's ear to whisper something. Her eyebrows disappear into her hairline by the time the girl finishes talking.

"What's going on?"

"Maybe she's being propositioned by her."

"Hot."

But Elena laughs and shakes her head no, and she's still giggling by the time she joins them.

"Oh my god guys, you'll never believe what just happened."

They wait impatiently as Elena settles into her seat.

"So after that blonde ran away, this other girl comes up to me and asks if I want to go over to her apartment."

"Interesting." Damon looks at her and smirks.

"Wait, it gets better. Then she says she couldn't help overhearing but she's always on the lookout for people of my kind and that she and her friends would be up for some fun in exchange for, you know, blood sharing."

"You're kidding right?"

"Nope. And, get this, she offered to show me the bite marks on her neck."

Klaus stops laughing long enough to ask, "Well, what did you tell her?"

"That I couldn't because I had an appointment with you guys tonight."

And they crack up all over again, imagining the girl and her crazy friends. Stefan tries to butt in with some observation about the worrying repercussions of the romanticisation of vampires on young girls, but they quickly abandon that conversation to discuss whether real vampires use this ploy to gain easy access to prey.

"I mean, thanks to Stephenie Meyer," Katherine points out, "vampires all over the world have never been so in."

Then Damon brings up a Supernatural episode with the exact same plot, so of course they tease him mercilessly ("It's Elena! She watches it!" "Shut up, I saw you browsing the Destiel tag the other day") and before she knows it Matt the bartender is wiping down the bar and the others are gathering their purses and wallets and settling the tab.

"Coming?" Stefan asks her.

"I'll just finish up my drink."

When everyone else leaves and the bar is almost empty, she realises that Klaus is still sitting next to her.

"Don't you have to go to work tomorrow? Oh right, I forgot. You just sit in your creepy studio and paint snowflakes."

"Hey, let me remind you that that painting sold for more than double its price."

"To who, Elsa?" And she laughs loudly at the terrible joke. And because Klaus doesn't, she tries to explain it. "Because you know, Frozen. And she can control snow-"

"Caroline."

"Huh?" She realises that he's been trying to ask her something.

"Did you apply for that job?"

"Oh, well, not yet."

"What do you mean not yet?"

And she can't tell him she's worried that she won't even have a chance and she doesn't want to get her hopes up high; that for all her talk about exploring the world, the prospect of moving across the country frightens her; and that she doesn't want to seem ungrateful because it's great he got her this opportunity but working at Meredith's, living with Stefan, going down to the bar every night, is comfortable and safe and doesn't make her feel like she's jumping into this dark, unknown abyss.

"I'm going to do it soon. Just been very busy with work."

The lie should've unsettled her but the shots had really taken the edge off of everything and as she stares absently at his lips and his hair, her guilt slowly vanishes.

They sink into a pleasant silence and Caroline looks around her, grinning at nothing in particular. She loves the peanuts she's munching on, she loves the booth she's sitting in, she loves the towel Matt the bartender is using to polish the glasses, she loves-

She blinks.

"I think I should get going."

Klaus yawns and stretches. She looks away so quickly her hand sends an empty beer bottle clattering.

"Yeah, even I should." He glances at the exit. "You know, I bet Stefan's read all the Twilight books," he adds, playing with the label of the bottle he'd rescued.

"You know I think you're right. We should go upstairs and check."

Klaus looks her straight in the eye and shrugs. "We do need something to blackmail him with now that we've told everyone about the journals," he says casually.

"Well," she says, equally casual, "he might have hidden them in my bedroom. We'll have to inspect every surface."

"Yeah, that's fine by me."

"Fine."

.

.

Summer is almost to an end and by then she's lost count of the number of times they've ended up sleeping together. Quickies in the bathroom during house parties, Damon-and-Elena style. Double dates that end with them ditching their respective partners. Lunch plans that turn into office sex. 3 AM calls when she wants to blow off steam before work the next day.

Really, she tells herself, she's just being practical. Sex with Klaus is a safe option. He's amazing in bed, and he doesn't get clingy. And there's practically no effect on their friendship at all. So why should she have to put on a dress, go to the bar, wade through all the routine creeps and jerks to get laid when she's horny? Which she seems to be a lot lately. All. The. _Fucking_. Time.

"I think it's all the pollen in the air," she tells Katherine after a particularly frustrating daydream involving _him_ and his mouth. "All those plant pheromones making us horny."

"Seriously, what is with people? Everyone's getting some except me. Even Klaus is in such a ridiculously good mood, it's freaky. Wait-"

"Why are we talking about Klaus?" she says hastily. "Let's concentrate on me and _my_ needs."

The brunette smirks. "Really? And how have you been taking care of those needs?"

"With Jesse of course. He's delicious." Jesse's been her go to excuse whenever she's needed one to bail on the gang and meet up with Klaus in his apartment.

"Yeah? We never see him at the bar."

"See who at the bar?" Elena emerges from the dressing room, and they catch their breath. The dress flows long and free, and the exquisite lace details on the sleeves accentuate her round shoulders. The messy bun she had pulled her hair into perfectly complements the boat neck of the outfit.

"Never mind," Katherine whispers, staring at her cousin decked up in white.

"Hmm? Do you think this looks okay? The waist just needs a little adjustment-"

"Elena," Caroline interrupts, "this is it. It's- it's perfect." And then Elena looks up with radiant eyes and they can't help but squeal and throw their arms around each other and even Katherine might be tearing up a little and seriously, when did her life become such a sappy chick flick?

.

.

She's swivelling in her chair when Cami enters. It's just something she does when she's stressed. She goes round and round in her office chair until all the blood goes to her head and she has to take deep lungfuls of air. It clears her mind.

Cami waits patiently for her finish. She's great like that, Cami. Caroline plants both hands on the edge of her desk to arrest the motion and blinks a couple of times. She exhales heavily. "What's up, Cami?"

"I haven't seen you do that in a long time. And things have been pretty busy in the office lately, what with Hayley messing up the Humphrey wedding."

They exchange smirks over their arch-rival's fuckup. Then Caroline shrugs and says, "Guess I've found other ways to deal with the stress."

"Figured. So I wanted your friend's number. The artist?"

"Klaus?"

"Yeah. The hot one."

"He's not hot," she says automatically.

Cami laughs and flicks her blonde hair. "You probably don't notice it, being his friend and all, but he is. Come on. Just give me his number."

"But why?"

"Meredith wants to commission a few pieces for the Vanderbilt gala. When I met him at the party at your place he told me he does this kind of work."

"I don't know, Cami. He can be very moody."

"Not a problem. I can be _very_ persuasive." After taking down his number, she flashes Caroline a grin and walks out.

Caroline stares at the door for a beat and resumes swivelling.

.

.

Elena traces the embossed letters on the champagne coloured invitation. "Fancy."

"Yeah, the Vanderbilts are crazy. Last year they held a fundraiser for rainforests and each table had centrepieces overflowing with imported flowers and vines worth thousands of dollars. This year they have ice sculptures depicting scenes from Swan Lake."

"Sounds like fun." Damon yawns.

"And they always have this annoying harp music in the background, but this time the harpist is pregnant so I don't think that's going to work out." Caroline makes a mental note to talk to Cami about the music. "Yeah it's really not our scene."

"Klaus is going," Stefan points out, looking up from his crossword puzzle.

"That's because some of his works are being used as décor. To 'set the mood' or whatever. They had him paint some weird shit. And since he gave them the paintings for next-to-nothing, it's only fair they asked me to get him along too. It's not as if I'm bringing anyone else as a plus one. It just makes sense going together, is all." And she should stop rambling because she's really going overboard with her explanations and Stefan's starting to give her weird looks.

Damon yawns again. "No one cares, Blondie."

"Why are you so sleepy?"

"Because we were kept awake again last night. By the Stinsons," Elena mutters darkly.

"Fuck the Stinsons." Damon ambles to the kitchen for more beer. "I feel like writing a strongly-worded letter to the super."

Caroline grins. "Saying what? _'I wish to file a noise complaint against my next-door neighbours. The sounds of their passionate and violent love-making keeps me up all night'_." She pauses. "Wait, that came out wrong."

"Caroline, last night was worse. They were fighting and they kept throwing plates at the wall we share with them. And then they had sex on the same wall," adds Elena.

"I've always wondered about the logistics of sex while standing up," Stefan muses.

"It's quite simple," Elena explains readily. "The guy needs to have excellent upper-body strength and the girl should keep her balance on-"

Caroline clears her throat. "Yeah, yeah we don't need all the details. It's a little weird."

"Why is it weird?"

"Um, because Stefan's your ex and you're engaged to his brother who happens to be in the same room? Am I the only one who finds it a _little_ weird?"

There's a moment of silence when the three of them stare at her with amused expressions.

"Yep," quips Damon, shutting the fridge with his hip. "You're the only one."

.

.

"That sculpture's melting."

"Ssh."

"No, look. Odette looks like she's crying."

Caroline shushes him again. A chunk of ice slides down Odette's face and onto the chequered marble floor. A waiter bearing flutes of champagne almost slips in the puddle and she watches with a smirk as Cami rushes to the scene and mops it up, barking at the servers to watch where they were going.

"Shouldn't you be helping?" Klaus whispers in her ear.

"No, it's really Cami's day. I'm just here as a representative. Going to sit back and _relax_ ," she replies, stifling a smile as she notices the harried expression on Cami's face and the wild hair escaping from her bun. And okay maybe she's enjoying this more than usual because Cami thanked Klaus a little _too_ enthusiastically for his paintings, but that's neither here nor there.

"Minx." His voice drops and goosebumps cover her bare arms.

"You know you like it," she says, her eyes full of dark promise.

They barely leave each other's side that evening. Here, amidst stilted social etiquette and rigid hierarchies, she feels curiously free. She finds herself touching him more than usual; a hand on his forearm as she introduces him to potential buyers, a brush against his side as she slinks past him to the bar, a palm braced on his chest as he leans in to make a joke.

Then there's the other stuff; snickering at the very pregnant harpist (a distant Vanderbilt cousin) struggling to play around her distended belly, throwing around words like "postmodern" and "Foucauldian" in front of his paintings to lure buyers, downing champagne like shots when they think no one's looking.

They dance again and again that night, laughing and enjoying themselves in ways they usually cannot. His gaze is focused entirely on her and his arm is slung possessively around her waist, slightly lower than what's appropriate. It feels exhilarating.

Smiling, she steps away from him as the song ends and excuses herself to the bathroom, a little breathless.

When she comes out of the stall, she sees Cami at the sink washing her hands.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," notes Cami.

Caroline meets her reflection's gaze. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright.

"Yeah, I guess. You did a brilliant job."

"So they say." Cami sighs and slumps against the counter. Now that the gala is winding down, she's had time to fix her hair and makeup, but exhaustion still peeks from behind her eyes.

"Hey." She squints suddenly at Caroline. "You didn't tell me you were dating Klaus."

"What? No. No, we're not. We're just friends."

"Really?" Cami raises a sceptical brow.

"Yeah. You know, just hanging out."

" _That's_ hanging out? Looked like a date to me."

Caroline keeps her eyes on her reflection. "Well, you're clearly wrong."

When she looks away, Cami's already gone. The faucet's half-open, trickling water into the sink. She twists it shut with a sigh.

As soon as she steps outside, her eyes invariably seek out Klaus. He cuts an impressive figure in his tux talking to a group of similarly-dressed men. He smiles when he meets her gaze and walks over.

"Let's leave then?"

"Yeah…" She bends down to retrieve her purse from a chair and feels his eyes linger on her legs. Her stomach flips.

"If we hurry we might be able to beat the rush hour back to my place."

"Uh, actually-"

"Something wrong?" His eyes had been pleasantly drifting across the room but now his attention is wholly on her.

"I have a terrible headache right now. So..."

"Oh."

"Yeah, sorry."

"No, it's okay. I'll just get you a cab then. See you tomorrow."

She pretends she doesn't see the disappointment on his face.

.

.

She's shopping for groceries (well, mostly yogurt and cereal) when she bumps into Jesse.

For an insane moment, she considers hiding in the frozen food section.

"Caroline?"

"Oh hey, Jesse!"

"How are you?"

"I'm good. Really good."

"That's nice."

They smile at each other and she sees him bracing his hands on the trolley, about to move away.

"Um, Jesse, do you want to go out for lunch?"

"What?"

"Lunch. With me."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really." She finds that she actually means it.

"I don't know, you never called. I kind of thought you weren't interested."

"I'm sorry, I was caught up in work! And I am," she adds earnestly, "interested."

"Okay. Lunch sounds great." He gives her a shy smile and wow she'd forgotten how stunning his eyes are.

"Great. That's great. I know this great place." _Too many greats, Caroline_. "Anyway, I'll call you."

"You better mean it this time." He winks.

.

.

"Hey Care, where were you?" Stefan asks, making space for her in the booth.

"Oh, I was out with Jesse. For lunch."

"You've been seeing him a lot lately, haven't you?" Katherine observes with narrowed eyes.

"Well, yeah. I think things are going really well."

"What's going really well?" Klaus asks, back from the bar with the next round.

"Caroline and Jesse."

"Yes, I heard things are going swimmingly." He gives her a small wink. She shakes her head warningly but he doesn't notice.

"Hey, were you guys at that steak house today? Because Rose thought she saw you. How was the food? I've been meaning to try it."

The look of confusion on Klaus's face is so obvious that she steps on his foot.

"- I knew Jesse was a steak kind of guy, I mean look at his teeth. Have you guys heard my theory about men and their teeth-" Seriously, she loves Damon and all but if he doesn't stop talking she'll _stake_ him.

She can pinpoint the exact moment Klaus realises it. His features become tight and he takes an extra-large gulp of his beer.

As the conversation moves on to the best restaurants that serve steak which naturally evolves into an argument pitting their favourites against each other, Caroline tries not to dwell on the fact that Klaus doesn't meet her eye for the rest of the night.

.

.

Katherine ambushes her while she's washing her hands in the bathroom.

"So, date with Jesse, huh?"

"Um, yes."

"Like an _actual_ real date?"

"As opposed to what, Katherine?" she replies, a little annoyed.

"Klaus seemed pretty pissed."

"Yeah, I guess he just had a bad day."

"Really? So he didn't mind you went on a date with another man after sleeping with him all this while?"

"WHAT?"

"Aha, I knew it!" Katherine cries gleefully. "You've been sneaking around with Klaus since that time at the club. Maybe even earlier."

"That's not true! You're drunk" is her lame defence.

"Don't bother lying, Care," she answers lazily, eyes scrutinizing her reflection. "Your reaction just confirmed it."

Caroline's glad they're alone in the bathroom. She peeks outside to check if Elena's still at the booth and hasn't come looking for them.

"Okay fine," she says, firmly shutting the door. "We have been sleeping around. But you can't tell anyone."

"Who would I tell? Elena would start fretting about the group dynamic. Damon would make annoying inappropriate jokes. And Stefan would cry tears of betrayal. Please."

"There's no betrayal involved."

"Then why have you been sneaking around?"

Caroline opens her mouth and then shuts it. "Um, because it's less messy if we don't tell anyone. And there's nothing to tell, anyway. It's just sex."

Katherine gives her an _Oh Honey_ look. "Come on, let's get out of here. We need to have a long chat."

.

.

Emboldened by the margaritas she drinks like water at Katherine's apartment, Caroline spills out the entire story.

Katherine doesn't offer any comments except to ask in the end, "So how is he?"

"What?"

"Because I've always wondered. Since Elijah is a demon in the sack even though he might not look like it and-"

"Kat. Katherine. That's not the point."

"Come on, you have to tell me! Does he go down on you a lot because in my experience British men tend-"

"Oh my god!" She laughs. "Okay so the sex is probably the best I've had."

Katherine looks smug. "Thought so."

And they sit until the wee hours of morning and drink, overanalysing her life.

.

.

They're at an "avant-garde" art exhibition as a favour to one of Klaus's friends. She's supposed to be concentrating on a performance piece involving a giant nest of human hair and an iPhone 6 being hammered to bits, instead her eyes keep straying towards where he's hobnobbing with his circle of fellow artists.

The suit he's wearing reminds her of the night of the Vanderbilt benefit, and she feels strangely wistful. Though Klaus went back to normal the next day, the air between them still reeks of something forced, and she finds the sideway glances Katherine keeps throwing them fucking unbearable.

"Oh my god, is this the most ridiculous thing ever or what?" Katherine moans, plucking a cocktail shrimp from a passing waiter's tray. Two middle-aged ladies dripping in pearls frown at her words.

"Ssh, don't embarrass Klaus," hisses Elena, though she looks like she's fighting tears of boredom.

Katherine shrugs. "Please. I'm probably the best piece of art in the room."

"I wouldn't argue with that," quips an accented voice.

"Elijah!" The look of delight on Katherine's face is so sheer it gives Caroline pause.

The few times she's met Klaus's older brother, he's always been impeccably turned out. This time is no different; the elegantly tailored lines of his suit strike an impressive figure. Even Elena can't take her eyes off his broad shoulders.

"Miss Forbes, Miss Gilbert," he greets, and they almost swoon at his old-world charm.

"I thought you were in DC?"

"My meeting ended early. I came straight from the airport. Sophie Deveraux happens to be an old friend of mine as well."

Caroline wonders how his suit remained wrinkle-free on the flight.

Katherine slips her arm through his and says, "Come, there's this sculpture you'll like. It's a fascinating commentary on materialism."

They observe the pair sauntering towards the other end of the gallery, and Elena turns amusedly to her.

"She's really smitten, you know."

"I know! It's so obvious. It's clearly not casual anymore."

"They're so different from each other. I hope it works out."

They watch Katherine throw back her beautiful head and laugh at something he says, and Elijah gaze at her as if she's the centre of his universe.

"I think it will."

.

.

She trudges into the bar after a particularly stressful day and inwardly groans when she sees only Klaus at their booth. She briefly contemplates doubling back and going upstairs but he's already caught sight of her.

He waves her over, and she smiles and points at the bar. She takes her own sweet time choosing a drink, trying to delay the moment she'll have to slide into the booth opposite him and make awkward small talk until the rest arrive.

Klaus must've gotten impatient because after a while she feels his presence at her side.

"Are you waiting for the scotch to age, love?"

"Mm I want to choose the right drink. It's one of those days, you know."

He leans past her and asks Matt the bartender for a dirty martini. The faint smell of whiskey and spice assaults her senses.

She sips her martini, a trifle annoyed he correctly guessed her drink preference yet again. "You're wearing a new cologne," she blurts.

He's a little taken aback but composes himself quickly. "Yes, it's a different brand." Then he inclines his neck forward and asks with a little quirk of his brows if she likes it, so she has no choice (she tells herself) but to lean in and take a whiff of the fresh and spicy scent.

"Yeah it smells pretty nice," she mumbles into her drink, quite sure he noticed she spent longer than necessary sniffing him.

Silence envelopes them and even though it's not awkward at all, it's buzzing with something Caroline doesn't want to address. She hopes she can finish her martini fast enough to order another drink. Anything to break this silence.

"Hey," he begins softly. "We're okay right?"

"Of course we are," she replies immediately. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Just that, I don't want any awkwardness between us. You're one of my best friends." She thinks he looks a little pained when he says that.

"Same here."

"That day with Jesse… I was just a little caught by surprise."

"It's okay, forget about that," she says brightly.

"Okay."

"Okay."

.

.

They sleep together that night.

Seriously, she hadn't been planning on it. She'd been bundling up her coat, getting ready to leave, when Klaus had stumbled into her.

"Hey, hey," she laughs. "Someone's had too much to drink tonight."

"Caroline," he whisper-grins into her ear. "Let's split a cab."

"And go where?"

"My place, of course." He tugs absently at a lock of her hair and she covers his hand with hers warningly. She looks around, sure that a minute ago she'd seen him chatting up a blonde at the bar.

"What? We can't."

"Of course we can. Just one last time, for old times' sake."

She gives him a look.

"Come on. Before things get serious with Jesse."

"Um." The hand that has slipped between her blouse and jeans is making it very hard for her to think rationally.

"Care?" Stefan looks over at the two of them questioningly. Thankfully, he can't see anything more than her bulky coat still in her arms, and Klaus leaning into her for support.

"I'll just go and drop Klaus off," she yells, "he's pretty out of it."

He nods and disappears upstairs.

Immediately Klaus straightens and winks at her. "Shall we?"

"You're an idiot." She rolls her eyes. But when Klaus silences her with a kiss, she responds with equal fervour.

.

.

"You didn't come home last night."

"Yeah, I just crashed at his place. It was easier." She collapses on the couch, her legs still a little sore. Last night had been mind-blowing, but there had been this weird moment when they were having breakfast and he was reading the newspaper, and the entire scene had felt too domestic. Then Caroline had flung his paper aside and kissed him, which led to countertop sex and _bye bye awkward thoughts_.

"Really. You just crashed." Stefan surveys her from the table where he's grading some essays. He's wearing those red-framed glasses that can be snapped in half. They'd made fun of him for being such a dork but he loves them, mainly because they're a gift from Lexi.

Her mind drifts towards Lexi, a tall blonde with a sunny smile who'd looked Caroline in the eye and shaken her hands firmly instead of being intimidated by the whole apartment-sharing situation and the easy camaraderie she shares with Stefan. The gang as a whole agrees that Lexi is a strong contender for The One.

"I don't know why it's such a big deal, Stefan," she snaps suddenly. "I've crashed at Katherine or Elena's place a billion time."

"Yes, but it's Klaus."

"So? And I don't see why you are bothered with this."

He holds her gaze for a moment before dropping it to his pile of papers.

"You're right. It's not a big deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Klaus and Caroline sleep together "one last time". Do you think that'll last? :P  
> Please don't forget to comment! Your feedback gives me life.   
> And are you guys getting the HIMYM references?


	4. Chapter 4

The thing with having amazing sex at a regular basis is that you get used to it, and going cold turkey is giving her some serious withdrawal. She’s been on a couple of dates with Jesse, even spent the night at his apartment. But he’s visiting his parents and well, the bar is teeming with so many temptations, and they haven’t really had a discussion about this. Are they exclusive? Is she seriously considering cheating on him? Caroline groans.

“Are you okay there, Barbie? You seem a little twitchy.”

“I’m fine,” she replies, wondering why all the hot guys in New York suddenly decided to visit their bar.

Klaus slips into the seat next to her and hands them all their drinks. She sips her beer and tries to focus on Lexi’s story of when she was new to the city and not on the bearded man at the bar who’s been smiling at her all night.

“And then this man came up to me and said he was a genie who could grant wishes. The catch was I just had to rub his penis.”

“I can’t believe he thought something like this would work.” Elena laughs.

“He was actually a little cute, you know. Wore a nice suit.”

Damon taps his chin thoughtfully. “A penis that grants wishes? That’s a pretty good plot for an Aladdin porn parody.”

As the conversation swings towards Disney porn parodies (“Snow White and those seven dwarves would be wiiild”) she realises that she’s not the only one who’s been making eyes at another person. A brunette with long curly hair is shyly glancing at Klaus from the top of her book. _Seriously? Who reads books in a bar?_

Klaus catches the girl’s eyes and shoots her his signature smirk, dimples and all.

She’s going to analyse what happens next for days. Klaus starts to rise out of his seat and Caroline immediately clamps her hand on his thigh.

He sits back down and turns his profile slightly towards her, face betraying minor surprise. Thankfully no one else notices as they’re now busy arguing about the various cheating strategies in Battleship. At the back of her mind she wonders how porn led to this.

After the initial shock at her own actions, her thoughts focus themselves on her fingers. The fingers that are now stroking the upper half of his jean-clad thigh. Her brain has forgotten everything else. Jesse. That bearded man. And the only thing she’s aware of is Klaus nodding along to the discussion.

“Sometimes I place the ships diagonally. It’s worked quite a few times.”

“But that’s too risky. If your partner is observant enough he’ll figure it out. I think stacking two ships on each other makes more sense.”

Her hands stray a little too close and Klaus jerks a little, taking a large sip to cover the movement. But the raised brows and the glint in his eye dares her on and she smirks back at him.

“I like how cheating in Battleship is universally accepted,” Caroline adds. “When in any other game it would be frowned upon.”

“I think it’s the war-like feel of the game. I always feel like I’m sitting in the captain’s cabin, issuing orders and looking at ships being blown up. All’s fair in war.”

Klaus is oddly quiet throughout and she knows he’s trying to maintain a straight face. She marvels at the adrenaline rush coursing through her, how she’s the one making Klaus feel like this, how he hasn’t glanced at that girl even once.

It doesn’t faze her at all that they’re sitting in a very public booth with her friends and Stefan’s girlfriend. If Katherine were here, she thinks idly, she would have noticed something was up.

“I’ve never played Battleship before.”

The group is suddenly silent and Caroline quickly removes her hand from his crotch, convinced they’ve noticed her practically giving Klaus a hand job under the table.

But they’re all staring at Lexi instead and even Stefan looks a little shocked.

“You’ve never played Battleship before?”

Naturally they all troop upstairs for a round of Battleship. On their way up Klaus lags behind and takes hold of her wrist, pulling her flush.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, love.”

She’s still a little red in the face after her behaviour in the bar, but she stands on her toes and whispers in his ear.

“Bring it on, Mikaelson.”

.

.

They become more daring after that.

.

.

He corners her in her bedroom once while Stefan is taking a shower.

“Wha-”

His mouth is rough and his hands insistent, hitching up her skirt and almost tearing her underwear. His tongue pushes firmly against her mouth when she pulls him closer.

“Stefan will be out anytime. He’ll hear us, or worse,” she gasps, “see us.”

He catches her earlobe with his teeth. “I know.”

He ends up fucking her against the wall with his fingers, his other hand over her mouth. The build-up’s amazing and she knows she’s going to come harder than she ever has before. But before she can, he stops.

“ _Are you fucking kidding me_?” she whisper-yells.

But he only winks and saunters away, hands in his pockets.

She fixes her clothes and stomps out to see Stefan fresh from his shower, wondering why she has such a murderous expression on her face.

.

.

She returns the favour next time they’re all sitting at their booth.

She’s sitting opposite him this time so she uses her foot and it works even better. His hands keep clenching and unclenching around his glass and it takes him visible effort to remain quiet.

Then she stops abruptly and stands up. Klaus looks shell-shocked. She gives him a tiny smirk and moves to the bar where she proceeds to flirt aggressively with the first man who shows interest.

Klaus glowers at his drink, throwing her dark looks over his shoulder while she just continues smiling and leaning in closer to the suited man she’s talking to. She’s surprised no one’s noticed, though it’s only Damon and Elena this time and the two of them are too wrapped up in each other to notice their friends engaged in this twisted form of foreplay.

They keep up the charade until Klaus texts her.

_Okay. Enough games._

She drops Mr. Suit like a hot potato.

.

.

They have sex in the alley behind the restaurant where they’re celebrating Katherine’s birthday, and instead of feeling dirty, she just smoothens her dress down and returns to the table after having finished making her “call”. The gang questions him about the hickeys on his neck and he tells them it’s a rash. From that time onwards, Caroline always carries some concealer with her.

.

.

She finds herself spending more and more time with him. They go out for pancakes on morning-afters, sometimes she calls him over for lunch at her office. There’s one memorable weekend when Stefan goes to visit Lexi’s family and they have the whole apartment to themselves. If the gang notices them exiting the bathroom at the bar within minutes of each other, or splitting a cab more often than necessary, no one joins the dots.

It’s only natural that everything comes crashing down after this.

.

.

“What the-”

Klaus looks up from kissing her neck and curses.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.” Damon steps into the living room with a crooked smirk and leans easily against the wall. “No, don’t mind me.”

She glares at him as she hurriedly puts her blouse on inside-out (thankfully her bra is still on). She would’ve sworn she’d locked the front door.

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Damon.” His hair is all mussed up from where she’d been clutching him and he’s still shirtless, his pants riding low on his hips. It’s absurd but her body continues to heat up when she looks at him.

“How long has this been going on?”

“A while,” he replies, a little defiantly.

She can see Damon hadn’t been expecting that. He looks surprised for the second time since he set foot in her apartment.

“Don’t tell Stefan,” she blurts out. “I mean you’ll probably tell Elena because you tell Elena everything but you can’t- Stefan doesn’t have to know-”

Klaus turns to her and the look on his face makes her tighten her mouth shut.

“Whatever, Blondie. It’s none of my business what you and Mikaelson do behind closed doors. I’m just surprised none of us noticed it.”

“Katherine knows.”

“Ah, figures.” And then he’s leaving the apartment with a cheerful wave and a nonchalant “Go ahead, just pretend I didn’t interrupt you” and as soon as the door shuts behind him, she starts freaking out.

“Oh my god, oh my god. What do I do now! What if Stefan finds out? He will, I’m sure of it. Damon will tell him. Fucking Damon and his big mouth-”

“So what if Stefan knows?”

“It’s going to ruin everything! Our friendship. The group.”

“Katherine knew already. Nothing happened. What do you think will happen if Stefan finds out?” He’s putting on his clothes with odd jerky movements and for some reason seems to be talking to the space behind her.

“I- I don’t know. I don’t want him to find out.”

“I see.” Klaus slips his phone into his pocket and looks at her with a blank expression. “I have to go.”

Alarm bells are ringing in her head and she knows she should say something but she can’t quite understand what.

“Um-” Her voice dries up in her throat.

“Bye.” He forces a polite smile on his face and when he leaves, the thud of the door makes her jump.

.

.

Elena calls her over for a movie and when she tries to make excuses she immediately slips into threatening lawyer mode. Caroline figures it’s easier not to resist.

The movie is by an aspiring filmmaker, a client of Elena’s, and seems to be composed of a lot of shots of an old man screaming in black and white, and a bridge collapsing in slow motion.

“Do you think the snake that woman is holding is symbolic of a penis?” Caroline asks.

“I don’t care.” Elena mutes the screen and turns to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Don’t play innocent. I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up.”

“It’s not a big deal, Elena. We slept together a couple of times. Happened by accident.”

“What do you mean ‘by accident’? Did you trip and fall into bed with him?” she quizzes, as if Caroline’s her client.

“That’s ridiculous!” she exclaims. “But actually not far from the truth.”

“Caroline!”

She studies her cuticles.

Elena sighs. “Look, I don’t care that you slept with Klaus. Or the number of times you slept with him. Which, incidentally, was how many? Okay, okay.” She holds up her hands in response to the look on Caroline’s face. “Not important.”

“I just don’t know what happened. It started off as sex. Something fun.”

“And it turned into something else.”

“I really can’t understand. All I know is that he’s acting weird now.”

There’s a short moment of silence in which Caroline idly stares at onions being peeled on the screen.

“Hey, I think the movie makes more sense without sound. You know, instead of showing someone crying, they’re chopping oni-”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Care?” Elena interrupts again. “I mean this is clearly huge. Not, you know, just a fling or something.”

“Is that what you thought when Damon told you?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, it’s just so hard to wrap my mind around it. He’s Klaus and you’re _you_. I always thought you would-” She falls quiet.

“What? I would what?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s not nothing. You might as well tell me, Elena,” she snaps.

“Just, Stefan-”

“Oh, right. _Stefan._ That’s what you always thought. That I would make Stefan realise that his soulmate has been in front of him the entire time?” It’s like a dam has broken and words are cascading out of her mouth. She can do nothing to stop them. “That he would end up with me and you wouldn’t feel so guilty looking at his face every day? That all loose ends in the fairy tale life of Elena Gilbert would finally be tied up?”

For a moment she wonders whether she’s being a little unfair. Then she takes in the shocked expression on Elena’s face and a thrill of savage pleasure runs through her.

She’s out of the door before Elena can say a single word.

.

.

There’s a new karaoke machine in the bar, which means there are more people than usual. Which also means that there’s no chance of her running into her friends tonight.

She’s sitting at an unfamiliar table in the back of the bar. Her coat draped over the other chair and her book open to a random page are props situated to thwart unwanted company. She idly stirs her rum and coke, turning pages listlessly and laughs inwardly at the realisation that she’s become one of _those_ people. The ones who carry a book with them to bars and sit quietly in a corner, seemingly waiting forever for someone.

Caroline reads the text from Klaus again.

Damon walking in on them had changed things. It would be weird to continue their _thing_ now. He’s going out of town for a few days, he has to meet a gallery owner. He will see everyone when he comes back. He hopes things go well with Jesse.

Huh. Jesse. She hasn’t thought of Jesse in weeks. She absently recalls the voicemail he’d left her. He’d met somebody. He was sorry. She’d barely listened to it before deleting it.

Yes, she’s a terrible person.

A voice in Caroline’s head tells her she’s overreacting. Everything will probably go back to normal, she muses. Anyway, she hadn’t expected this friends-with-benefit thing to go on forever. Except, she kind of had. She’d never thought of what would happen when their arrangement ended. And now that it clearly has, she can’t figure out why she feels so hollow. Like someone has punched her gut and scooped out all her organs.

A drunk, overly-enthusiastic college kid is at the mike now. She winces as he starts sobbing to the lyrics.

_“If you loved me_

_Why’d you leave me?”_

His embarrassed friends try to drag him away but he stubbornly clings to the mike.

_“Take my body_

_Take my body”_

If her friends were here, they would already be recording the entire spectacle, cackling at the lovesick idiot. Instead, she silently watches him finish the emotional song and dedicate it to a “cruel mistress”. Friends and strangers alike awkwardly pat his back amidst thank-god-it’s-over applause, and she finds that she really wants to give him a long hug.

But she doesn’t. She drains her drink and bundles up for a walk in the dark and empty streets.

.

.

“Caroline!”

She looks up to see Cami’s blonde head peeking out from behind the ajar door to her office. According to Meredith’s Golden Rule #5 doors should never be completely shut in the office so as to foster a spirit of openness and community.

“What?” she hisses.

“Lucy and I are going out for lunch. Come with us. That kebab guy is parked outside today.” Meredith didn’t allow lunch breaks. Instead she had a whole drawer of takeout menus in the office. Meredith’s Golden Rule #9 said that working lunches encouraged efficiency and productivity. Of course, Cami and Caroline had been sneaking out ever since the rule was instituted for the kind of meaty goodness the all-vegan and gluten-free Meredith-approved takeaways didn’t provide.

“I don’t know, Cami. I have so much to finish, especially now that Meredith dumped the Erikson family reunion on me.”

“Come on, just two minutes. I know you haven’t eaten anything the whole day.”

“Yeah, I haven’t. I was running late.” Her stomach grumbles and she stares in dismay at the binder in front of her that seems to be increasing in size every hour. “You know, I still have to find a caterer who’ll agree to a salad with mayonnaise and gummy bears. Gummy bears, Cami, gummy bears. Actually, come to think of it, that salad sounds really good right now.”

Cami shakes her head. “You really need to eat. It’s already past 3.”

“No, you go ahead. I’ll order a, um, tofu burger or something.”

Before she can order from the vegan deli around the corner, Hayley drops in and picks her brain for fifteen minutes about an upcoming restaurant opening she’s working on.

“I think we’ll need to hire another janitor for the night. Esteban’s too slow. And half of the times, I can’t even understand what he’s saying. I told him I don’t know Mexican.”

“That’s not a language.”

“Huh?”

“Mexican’s not a language.”

Hayley looks at her as if she’s a child. “Um, don’t be silly, there’s _Mexican_ food.”

Caroline sighs. Some tacos would be nice right now.

Somehow the conservation swings to the Caribbean holiday Hayley had taken last week. She keeps trying to get Caroline to ask who she’d gone with, and whether it was Tyler, but having had enough now, Caroline just kicks her out.

Not long after, Cami pops in, a paper bag in her hand. She drops it on Caroline’s desk and winks.

She unwraps it eagerly to find a piping hot shawarma with extra fries and pickled beetroot sticks. Just the way she liked it.

“Cami,” she says fervently, “you’re an angel.”

She shrugs modestly. “Okay, I’ve gotta go. Enjoy.”

Caroline lifts the wrap to her mouth and is about to take a bite when her office intercom rings. She considers not picking it up but according to Meredith’s Golden Rule #12 an unanswered phone is a sign you’re slacking off.

“Hello, uh hi Meredith. Can I just call you ba-”

Meredith talks over her. “Caroline! You’re not doing anything important right now, are you? Good. Mrs. Delacour is here. She wants to talk about her two year-old’s birthday party. The florist you hired doesn’t use flowers grown organically.

 _He’s a fucking two year-old,_ she wants to yell, _he doesn’t care if the flowers are organic._

“Okay, um, I’ll be there in a minute. I haven’t eaten-”

“Caroline. You’ll be here _right now._ Mrs. Delacour is a high-paying client. You cannot keep her waiting.”

Mrs. Delacour was also an extremely cantankerous and fastidious client. Meetings with her invariably went on for hours.

Caroline looks at her shawarma in dismay and says, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

She could have taken a bite or two to keep her going, but suddenly filled with uncontrolled irritation, she chucks the entire thing into the dustbin.

Staring down at her lunch in the trash can, sauce oozing out of its wrapping, she finally thinks about something she’d been putting off for a long time.

It’s funny, she muses, shutting the door behind her, how something so small can make a decision for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think she's made up her mind about?  
> Next chapter will be up soon!   
> Please comment, I'd love to read your thoughts :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm really proud to announce that I've been nominated for the Klaroline Awards under Best OT3 Fiction! A million thanks for nominating me :D  
> If you like this story, please vote [here](http://klarolineawards.tumblr.com/vote)  
> I was so excited, I decided to immediately post this chapter :P  
> This is, ultimately, a Klaroline story, but it's also a Caroline-centric story. I hope to focus on her relationship with the rest of the gang, as well as her friendship with Klaus.  
> Enjoy!

She’s hurrying down the freezing street, longing for a stiff drink and a smoke when she sees Klaus standing outside the bar on the sidewalk, a cigarette propped up in his hand and his phone in the other.

She pauses for a moment and shuffles her feet uncertainly. _Fuck it_.

“Hey, got any for me?”

He looks up in momentary surprise. “Of course.” He nods.

Warmth spreads throughout her body as she takes her first drag and she sighs. “We’re going to die early, aren’t we?”

“Tragically, yes,” he agrees. “But some things are worth it.”

She bites her lip and looks down at her boots. She finishes her cigarette and without asking, Klaus hands her another one.

“So I’d been meaning to ask, how did that meeting with that gallery owner go?”

“Marcel? It went great. He liked my works. Said they’d fit in with New Orleans’ art scene.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah, it is.”

There’s a small pause as Caroline looks at the people hurrying by on the opposite sidewalk. Such busy, productive lives they lead. She feels Klaus’s eyes intent on her and turns.

He gestures at the cigarette she’s clutching like a lifeline. “Rough day?”

“When is it not?” She sighs. She feels like they’ve had this conversation before. Then she thinks of the phone call she’d made. “Remember that, uh, job opening you told me about? I finally contacted them.”

“And?”

“They said they’ll get back to me about the interview date. But they seemed pretty pleased with my resume. I don’t know, I’m going into this with _zero_ expectations. They probably have hundreds of other more qualified candidates and-”.

“Caroline.”

“What?”

“Don’t do that. This is a good start.” He gives her a smile. It’s a small one but something inside her melts. “They’d be fools not to take you.”

“Thanks, Klaus. For everything.”

He nods. Then, almost hurriedly: “Listen, Caroline, there’s something-”

“Oh my god, is that Tyler?”

It is. She sees him briskly walking along the stream of suits and briefcases opposite them. Somehow he spots her and pauses as if he’s getting ready to cross the road.

“Why is that fucker coming over here?” she wonders. But she can’t bring herself to move away. Klaus watches her ex-boyfriend’s approach with narrowed eyes.

“Hey, uh, Caroline.” She’s annoyed to see that he looks as handsome as ever. He does seem a little uncertain though, as if he isn’t sure why he crossed over to them. “And, you’re um-”

“Klaus.”

“Oh yeah. So, Caroline. How are you?”

“I’m good?”

“That’s nice to hear. Klaus, you’re the artist right? You make paintings and stuff?”

“You could say that.” She’s trying to figure why Tyler is trying to strike a conversation with them when she notices the sudden change in Klaus’s demeanour. He’s standing straight now, shoulders wide underneath his bulky coat. Earlier he was sullen, now he’s all quiet, intimidating smiles.

“What is it Tyler? I think I made it clear the last time I saw you, which was in bed with a girl who wasn’t me by the way, that I didn’t want to speak to you.”

Tyler pales a little under his perfect tan. “Yeah, um, I apologised for that. I was a dick. And that thing with Hayley was never serious, you know. Again, I’m really sorry.” Remembering that night is like a blade being slowly pulled out of her heart. And knowing that Tyler cheated on her with someone he only saw as a random floozy only sharpens the wound.

Caroline stays silent. Klaus lights up another cigarette for her but doesn’t offer Tyler any.

“The thing is, I tried contacting you later but I couldn’t seem to get through.”

“Yeah, well, I blocked your number.”

“Oh yeah. Should’ve expected that.”

“So what is it then?”

“Um, well, it’s my parents’ anniversary next month and well, mother had nothing but compliments about the work you’d done before. She thinks you’re the best-”

“Tyler.”

“What?” She’s glad to see he’s mildly sweating now.

“Fuck off.”

“Caroline, wait-” She turns to go and in one stride, Klaus moves to block Tyler.

“Hey-”

She turns around. “Tyler, if you think I’ll organise an anniversary party to commemorate your parents’ sham of a marriage then you’ve seriously inherited fewer brain cells from an already depleted stock.”

The look on his face isn’t pretty. Caroline smirks and steps out from behind Klaus. “And you can tell your hag of a mother that she can take her compliments and shove them up her-”

“Okay, okay that’s enough, love.” And with a firm grip on her arm, Klaus leads her into the bar as the door swings shut on a gobsmacked Tyler.

“Seriously, the fuck was up with him?” she rants. “I mean after all that he’s done he expects me to drop everything and plan a party for him? What?” Klaus is still grinning.

“Nothing. How did that feel?”

“So fucking good. I should’ve done that ages ago.”

“Do you think he’s going to go cry to ‘mother’ now?”

“Of course he is.”

Klaus shakes his head, chuckling, and shrugs off his coat. Caroline wipes her feet on the mat and they make their way to their favourite booth where the rest of the gang waits, curious to know why they’re laughing so hard.

.

.

It’s Damon’s birthday and Elena wants to have a sit-down dinner at their place. She calls Caroline over earlier to help prepare the food. Indian, Damon’s favourite. Caroline doesn’t dare refuse. Their friendship is still a little fragile after her meltdown that day, and though Caroline’s apologised for it since, she doesn’t want to risk straining things further.

Elena puts her to work as soon as she shows up. She mixes cumin, turmeric, cloves and a whole lot of other spices she doesn’t know the names of into yogurt and marinates the meat. She finds herself humming as she applies the aromatic mixture onto the lamb, her hands slipping and sliding over the meat. It’s strangely relaxing.

They open a bottle of wine for the salad but start drinking it for themselves instead. The whole time they talk like they haven’t before.

“I used to help my mom in the kitchen like this,” says Elena. “I would sit on a stool and read out the recipe for her. Gradually I began cutting and mixing things. We used to try out new dishes all the time.”

For the umpteenth time, Caroline feels a pang for something she never had. Elena, whose parents died in a car accident when she was 16, has a better relationship with them than Caroline with her own, very much alive, parents.

“Do you want more wine?”

“Yes. Always a yes.”

She replenishes their glasses. “At this rate we’ll have to get another bottle for the vinaigrette,” Elena points out.

“It’s okay, I asked Klaus to get the alcohol. The Mikaelson stash is impressive.”

“Hmm.” Caroline steadily sprinkles saffron over the biryani.

“You know what you said the other day-”

“I know, ‘Lena, I was terrible. Let’s move on.”

“No that’s not what- I mean, you were right.”

Caroline’s hand stills. This is something new.

“You were right about the whole Stefan thing. I’ve always sort of kept an eye on him. Not _that_ way. But I’ve watched him date girl after girl and every time he gets his heart broken, I felt like I’m indirectly responsible for it. Like it’s my fault.”

“Isn’t that kind of self-centred of you, Elena?” Ordinarily, this would have been another of those harsh truths Caroline kept to herself. But this is a safe space, a moment between two old friends, and she doesn’t feel like holding anything back. “Stefan and his love life isn’t your responsibility.”

Elena puts down the knife and sighs. “I know! That’s what I realised. I always thought I’d have a stake in his life. Because of what we had, because of what I did to him. Then I realised what a presumptuous little bitch I was being.” She laughs. “He clearly doesn’t care anymore that I’m with Damon.”

“He doesn’t. It’s been years, Elena.”

“I know.” She picks up the knife again and starts chopping the coriander. “The thing is, when I was with Stefan it felt epic. That this was it. Luckily, Stefan felt it too. But then I met Damon. And maybe it’s residual guilt, maybe it’s a genuine wish for a good friend, but I wanted what I have now with Damon for him. And I kind of thought it might be with you.”

Caroline’s eyes fix themselves on the steel of the knife slashing the green herb into fine pieces. “Why did you think that?”

“Because you guys were such good friends? You seemed so compatible? Because it made sense in the long run? I don’t know, now that I think of it, the reasons sounded better in my head.”

She feels that strange emotion again. Nostalgia for what never was. Elena makes it sound so simple. Neat. Elegant.

Elena smiles and shakes her head self-depreciatingly. “You know, if this were a sitcom you guys would be-”

“But it isn’t, ‘Lena. This isn’t a sitcom about a group of friends hanging around in New York City. This is real fucking life.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I never took your own feelings into account while constructing these fantasies about our lives.” There’s a slight pause as Elena checks the oven’s temperature. “I think I have to realise that sometimes it’s none of my business.”

Caroline doesn’t reply. Instead she hands her the wooden ladle and they spend the rest of their time in the kitchen orbiting around each other like dancers, an effortless tandem of words no longer unsaid.

.

.

The dinner is a success. Damon loves the food and it’s been a long, long time since the six of them have hung out together so they decide to spend the night, watching bad movies and getting progressively drunker. It’s easy for her to switch off and relax.

There are a couple of moments though when she acutely _feels_ things.

There’s the time when they begin to settle down for the movie ( _Manos:_ _Hands_ _of_ _Fate_ ) and it’s like a perfectly choreographed piece. Damon and Elena sit together at the far end of the couch. Katherine flops down onto an ottoman next to them. Klaus sprawls on the rug, with his back resting against the couch. Stefan drags the sofa chair towards his end. And Caroline takes her place next to Damon, pulling her legs up to make space for Klaus. They perform the moves smoothly and without getting in each other’s way and she realises that they’ve been sitting in the same positions for years, whether it’s the blue couch at Damon and Elena’s, the red one at her place, the cushioned one at Katherine’s or the sleek leather one at Klaus’s.

Then there’s the moment when Damon goes to the kitchen to look for more alcohol and Katherine orders her to check why he’s taking so long and she stumbles upon him kissing Elena passionately, the wine bottle still in his hand. None of them so much as notice her, and it’s far from the first time she’s come across them making out like teenagers but just something about this stolen moment makes her feel wistful.

Then there’s the time when Stefan and she are making wild cocktails for everyone. As they mix spirits randomly (scotch with chocolate sauce, topped with cranberry juice) and laugh maniacally at the outcomes, her mind can’t help but wander back to what Elena had said earlier.

And for the first time that night, she allows herself to think. She lets herself consider the future through Elena’s eyes and finds that it makes for a pretty picture indeed.

.

.

Unlike everyone else, Caroline doesn’t sleep well after a hard night’s drinking. She wakes with a jolt at around 4 am, though this time it’s more to do with the churning mix of emotions inside her head than alcohol. She pads out of the guest bedroom she’s sharing with a snoring Katherine for a glass of water and instead finds Klaus watching TV on mute, the pale light washing over his face.

“Hey, if you want to use the bathroom, just a word of warning. Stefan’s passed out in the bathtub.”

“No it’s okay. I just wanted some water…” she trails off as she notices the blank way he’s looking at the TV. “Are you all right? Why are you still up?”

“My mother had a bad fall. She’s in the hospital. I’m just waiting for a call back,” he replies in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh my god, that’s awful. Will she be okay?”

“That’s what I’m waiting for.”

“Oh.”

They all know about the relationship he has with his mother. Or the lack of it. Years of staying silent in the face of the verbal abuse Mikael regularly battered Klaus with, culminating with the discovery that he was a product of an extramarital affair, had succeeded in driving mother and son apart. Caroline had uncovered his life story bit by bit, through rooftop conversations and late nights at the bar when they’d been the only two not visiting family during the holidays.

He’d told her about tracking down his father, only to find out he’d passed away long ago; getting cut off by Mikael; fighting a long legal battle for his inheritance; relocating to the States to get away from it all. She’d listened to him, commiserated with him, shared her own experiences. But this time it’s difficult for her to get words out.

Instead she sits next to him. Klaus quietly makes space for her and they both stare at the screen.

“Will you go to visit her?” she asks after a while.

Klaus shrugs. The shadows on his face lengthen and fade.

“You should. Even if it’s a minor injury.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you’ll regret it if you don’t. Because no one would expect you to. And isn’t it fun going against the expectations of others?”

Klaus smiles; a quiet, half-smile she almost misses.

“Speaking from experience?”

It’s her turn to shrug now.

And they sit in silence, munching on stale popcorn and watching old infomercials till daylight breaks on the horizon.

.

.

After dropping Klaus at the airport, they decide to stop for some frozen yogurt.

While Elena and Katherine take hours to decide on the flavour and toppings, she and Damon mess with the wall of post-its left behind by customers. They add rude words to inspirational sayings and write dirty jokes on romantic messages, with Stefan giving them cover. It’s just the right kind of a juvenile prank she could do with no one else but them.

As she’s writing down Hayley’s phone number and address on a post-it (HOT TUB PARTY AT MY PLACE !!! THE MORE THE MERRIER !!! PETS ALLOWED !!!) and half-listening to Damon drone on about the merits of frozen yogurt versus gelato, Stefan drops a bomb on them.

“Guys,” he begins conversationally, “I think I’m breaking up with Lexi.”

Damon gives him a side-eyed look. “Don’t be stupid, brother.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. It’s just- I don’t feel the same way anymore. And I thought we'd agreed calling me brother makes you sound pompous?”

“What’s changed?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I mean I can’t envision a future with her. And I don’t want to date just for the sake of dating. It’s not fair to her.”

Damon clucks with fake sympathy. “Poor you. Having to let go of an amazing girl just because she doesn’t fit into some preconceived notion of the future you have. Let me tell you something, _brother_. Loving someone is a choice.”

“No it’s not,” Stefan replies irritably. “Love just happens. It strikes you. If it were a choice I wouldn’t still be searching for it.”

“Pfft. All this Fate and Destiny nonsense is bullshit. What do you say, Barbie?”

“Yeah, Caroline, what do you think?”

“Um,” she says, feeling flustered under the steady scrutiny of the two brothers. “I think it depends from person to person?”

Damon makes a disgusted noise and Stefan laughs at her clumsy diplomacy.

“But Stefan, please talk to Lexi,” she hurriedly adds. “Maybe her plans for the future match yours as well? It’s not fair if you make this decision without considering what she has in mind about this relationship.”

“Fine, if you say so. I’ll talk to her first.” He squeezes her arm with a smile and moves to help Elena and Katherine bring their orders.

“I’m surprised.”

“What?”

“That you think love is a choice. Didn’t you fall in love with Elena while she was still dating Stefan?”

Damon smirks. “Who said that wasn’t a choice?”

“But-”

“Ssh, don’t waste too many brain cells on this, Blondie.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Never forget, it’s my _choice_ to be an asshole.” And oblivious to her dirty looks, he throws back his head and laughs all the way to where their friends are sitting with their frozen yogurts.

.

.

Stefan doesn’t break up with Lexi. To all intents and purposes they’re still together but it sometimes feels as if they’re tiptoeing on eggshells around each other.

It’s last call and she decides to stay back and finish her drink. Stefan and Lexi are almost at the door when they run into an old college friend of Lexi’s. Stefan sticks around for the preliminary introductions before returning to the booth.

“Lexi’s going to take time catching up,” he explains. “Thought I’d give you company.”

She smiles and gestures to the opposite seat. She doesn’t say that she’s been by herself so often lately that she’s stopped minding.

“So it seems all is right in the Stefan-and-Lexi universe?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He glances at Lexi, still chatting with her friend. “We had a talk, like you suggested.”

“Oh?”

“Do you ever wish you could go back in time?”

“Huh?” She’s a little thrown by the non sequitur.

“Like back to college times? Do you ever wish you could have made different choices?”

She takes a wary sip of her scotch. “Not exactly. If I changed anything about my past I wouldn’t be the person I am now.” She’s telling him what he wants to hear. Or at least what she thinks he wants to hear.

Stefan places both his hands on the table and leans forward. “But what if it made your life better? More sorted? If you went back and, say, took a different turn. Fell in love with someone else.”

She surreptitiously wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans. “What are you talking about, Stefan?” she asks calmly.

“I think you know, Care.”

If this were a movie, she thinks, Lexi would interrupt them right now.

“I do? Sorry, my brain’s just spazzing out.” She crams the last of the fries in her mouth.

“Have you had too much to drink again?”

“Haha, maybe?” she laughs weakly.

Stefan looks as if he’s about to say something but swallows it down. She gulps the rest of her drink.

And because this isn’t a movie, Lexi doesn’t return in time to break the awkwardness. Instead, they sit in silence and fiddle with their phones, checking for messages that aren’t there.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So stuff happens.

Elena’s in a reckless mood (for Elena) and she convinces Caroline and Damon to accompany her to a place for a good deal on weed. So they bundle up into a cab and arrive at a shady corner of Central Park following her co-worker’s directions.

Caroline looks around sceptically. There’s only a homeless old woman loitering nearby. “I’m telling you, this is all a stupid prank.”

“No, I trust Bonnie.”

Damon, who’s been poking around in the bushes ineffectually, snorts. “That Bennett witch? She gives me migraines.”

“Don’t call her a witch. She’s so nice, she was the one who told me to burn sage to cure my insomnia.”

“That was sage? It smelled like burning feet the whole time.”

“What sort of a smell is-”

“Guys.” Caroline interrupts their bickering to gesture towards the old woman, who’s eyeing them beadily. She takes a step towards the woman with a hint of trepidation. “Um, do you have something for us?”

The scraggly-haired woman reaches into the depths of her pink nightgown covered bosom and fishes out a packet of the green contraband. Her smile reveals a remarkable number of gold teeth.

“Oh, that’s so fascinating!” Elena excitedly takes hold of the weed that’s been inside the woman’s bra and god knows how many other places. Caroline and Damon share exasperated glances.

Elena removes money from her purse but the woman just shakes her head. “First time’s free for Ms. Bennett’s guests.” Then she flashes them a peace sign and disappears into the shrubbery.

There’s a moment of silence when Caroline’s sure all their mouths are open in comic astonishment.

Then Elena shrugs and tucks the money and the weed carefully into her bag.

“I’m telling you,” says Damon. “Witches. They’re all witches.”

.

.

 **From** : [caroline.forbes@gmail.com](mailto:caroline.forbes@gmail.com)

 **To** : [nik.mikaelson@gmail.com](mailto:nik.mikaelson@gmail.com)

 **Subject** : **Re** : new york

So I’m emailing you instead of working on this doggie birthday I’m supposed to plan. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE dogs but when you’re sent to spend two hours with the “client” every day to understand his canine needs and on your way back you always get caught in traffic and then you barely have time for lunch… well you get the point.

Katherine doesn’t tell us anything but I know things are getting serious with Elijah. She’s barely at her apartment nowadays, and you know that rule she has about not sleeping over at the guy’s place. The other day Elena got so stoned she lay in the hallway and refused to move. We had to drag her inside and she bitched at us for “killing her vibe”. Then she had a 15-minute conversation with Mr. Kapoor from next door about flying machines in the Ancient Vedic age.

Damon drank too much bourbon after smoking up and passed out in the kitchen. I may have “accidently” cracked eggs in his hair. Then he woke up and all the yolk dripped into his face. Elena said egg is good for hair, so it’s okay. I’ll attach a picture. Stefan’s still with Lexi, I guess.

There’s a new drink on the menu. It’s Damon’s recipe. Too many maraschino cherries. He’s been trying to get Matt the bartender to name it ‘The Salvatore’. Then I pointed out that there's a possibility people might think it’s Stefan’s recipe, or even Elena’s after the wedding. Then Elena said she was going to keep her name. And apparently Damon didn’t know about that and they had a HUGE fight.

It’s all right now. They went to the bathroom and came back in 10 minutes with Elena’s shirt inside out.

New York is splendid, by the way. I’ve always loved the fall. The crunching sound dead leaves make when you step on them. The rain falling lightly in the evenings so that the buildings look all shiny and new. Sometimes I like to sit on the fire escape and squint my eyes at the sun until the light sears my brain. Other times I like to take long walks in Central Park and feed the ducks. I think the ducks have started recognising me. Whenever I come, they brush off whoever’s feeding them and gather around me. Maybe that’s because I only get the best bread for them. You know that gourmet one from the fancy bakery around the corner? Yeah. I’ve become the crazy duck lady now.

I’m glad your mother’s getting better. I heard Kol was arrested for pole dancing shirtless on the subway (or the tube or whatever). Do send pictures.

Caroline.

 **Attachment** : 1 photograph.

.

.

A few days before Klaus is supposed to be back, they decide to try out a bar that just opened near Katherine’s apartment.

The whole time they bitch and moan about the prices and the ambience, as well as the seedy clientele. That is, until they discover Snake Juice.

“Oh, I’ve heard of it!” says Damon, scanning the menu. “It’s supposed to be this really delicious alcohol that gets you drunk _real_ quick.”

“No thanks, I don’t want anything called _Snake_ _Juice_ into my body,” scoffs Katherine.

But Damon orders a round of shots nevertheless and Stefan holds his glass aloft and proposes a solemn toast to Klaus’s recovering mother, New York City and their fast-slipping youth. “-and as my students would say, YOLO.”

They clink their glasses and gulp down the alcohol. It’s surprisingly good; all the booze and coffee and truckloads of sugar hits their system at the same time. This time it’s Katherine who goes to the bar and orders an entire bottle of Snake Juice.

Suddenly the bar seems like a much nicer place, the rude waitress a warm and caring soul.

“Guys.” Katherine sighs. “I have a confession to make.”

“That you were wrong and I was right?” Damon grins.

Stefan stares at the label of the bottle. “The sugar levels are worrying.” Elena gives him a look. “Not that I care.”

They order another bottle. By this time Caroline can barely keep herself upright. Whenever she laughs her head keeps tipping over to Katherine’s shoulder, as if it’s too heavy for her. The faces of everyone are pleasantly out-of-focus, their voices warm and heavy with the potent booze.

“Anything else you need?” the waitress asks, scowling.

“No, thank you!” Caroline gushes. “You are too kind!”

There is karaoke, of course. Elena performs a rousing rendition of _What’s Going On_ while Damon sings _Barbie Girl_. Katherine just throws peanuts at them from the side-lines.

“Not interested in karaoke? You’re a way better singer than them,” Stefan points out.

“Nah, I’m too comfortable in my chair to get up. Plus, even if I want to, I don't think I actually can.”

Stefan looks at her and laughs. “You know Snake Juice reminds me of this drink Klaus had in Mumbai. At this really shady bar called _KitKat_. Like seriously, it was called KitKat. He still talks about it. Has he told you guys yet?”

“Klaus was in Mumbai?”

“Yeah, he interned with this eccentric artist who went around barefoot and only painted horses.”

“When was this?”

“Uh, Klaus and I graduated at around the same time. So the following July?” says Stefan, turning to flag the waitress.

Caroline blinks. “Seriously? _I_ was in Mumbai then.”

“Yeah, can we have more water, please? Really? Where did you stay?”

“This hostel in Colaba.”

“If I remember correctly, that’s where his gallery was.”

“Wait, was this the one next to Radio Club?”

“I really don’t know, Care. Probably.” Stefan sips his drink. “Hey. Imagine if you guys had met then. Maybe you’d already passed each other by on the street and never noticed. Isn’t that fascinating?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Stefan frowns. “Caroline, are you all right?”

It’s at that moment that the rest troop back to the table. Elena and Katherine collapse on the same chair simultaneously and giggle. Damon takes one look at Caroline’s face and asks, “What’s up with Blondie?”

The table’s suddenly gotten crowded.

“Um, I need some air,” she croaks. “I’ll be back.”

.

.

She makes it outside in a hazy stumble. The traffic is too loud so she ducks into an alley and rests her back against the grimy wall.

He doesn’t pick up the first time. She tries again.

“Caroline, what happened? It’s 4 am here,” he mutters groggily and there’s just something about the rough cadence of his sleep-addled voice that makes her insides clench. “Is something wrong, love?”

“No,” she whispers. “I just wanted to know something.” She feels so stupid. She wants to smash her head into the wall.

“Okay. Go on.” She can hear the rustling of sheets.

“Um, when you were in Mumbai, which gallery did you work at? Was it the one near Radio Club?”

Klaus doesn’t ask why she wants to knownthis in the middle of the night. Truth be told, she herself doesn’t.

“Was Radio Club that sea-front building down the road from the Taj hotel?”

“Yes.”

“Then yeah, that’s the gallery.”

Caroline exhales into her phone. “I was supposed to go there you know. I’d seen a poster for the exhibition. But I’d spent so much money buying ethnic jewellery I don’t even wear anymore that I didn’t have enough for a cab. So I just walked back to the hostel. It’s funny, isn’t it?”

Klaus is quiet for a moment. “That exhibition happened on my last day there. The next morning, I took a flight back home.”

“Sorry, I just- it’s crazy, you know? One of those weird coincidences. I just had to confirm.”

“Caroline.”

“It doesn’t even matter. I really don’t know why I care so much, or why I keep thinking what if we- I’m just really drunk.”

“Is someone with you?”

“Yeah, the rest are here.” A pause. “We miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

She ends the call and stands in the alley for a long time, listening to the silence at the other end, distant sirens echoing all around her.

.

.

Turns out, Snake Juice doesn’t leave their bodies without a fight. But Caroline has an early meeting so she chugs almost a full pot of black coffee, pops a few pills Katherine had given her and takes a cab instead of the train to her office.

She waits for the rest in the conference room, wincing at the muted traffic noises, refreshing her email again and again.

Cami makes a sympathetic face when she sees Caroline. “Wild night, huh?”

“Snake Juice did this.”

“I don’t even want to know what that is.”

The door swings open as Hayley struts in and Caroline winces. The fact that she’s looking so perky early in the morning only confirms her pure evilness.

“I would ask what’s wrong but this is actually how you look every day,” she says, giving her a onceover. “Like something the cat’s dragged in,” she elaborates unnecessarily.

Caroline grits her teeth. “In case it isn’t obvious, _Hayley_ , I’m fucking hungover. And I’m _this_ close to snapping. I swear I’m just waiting for a reason to get my hands around someone’s neck and just-”

Cami shushes them as Meredith enters the room. She leads Caroline to her chair, but not before shooting Hayley a look of loathing.

As usual, the meeting’s extremely boring and it takes everything she has not to bang her head on the table and let out a wail of despair.

They go over the work they’ve done in the past year and discuss the company’s “vision” (Meredith’s current favourite buzzword) for the next year. As usual, Meredith just ploughs ahead with her own ideas, disregarding everyone else’s suggestions. Even Patrice, the office sycophant, can’t get a word in.

Caroline flips through the binder given to her, filled with details of upcoming engagements. The clientele is generic in their wealth and social status, their demands increasingly over-the-top and outrageous. She’d organised the Shepards’ wedding two years ago; they wanted her to plan a party celebrating their divorce now. She turns the page to see that the Rosenmans’ required a dozen rabbits dyed pink for their daughter’s naming ceremony. Her head starts to pound.

Surreptitiously, she holds her phone under the table and checks her email again.

Cami looks up from perusing a stripper-themed sweet sixteenth and says, “You’re awfully keen on someone’s reply.”

Caroline smiles. “Something like that.”

She doesn’t have to wait for long. As Meredith and Hayley discuss the logistics of procuring “female Oriental fire-eaters”, her phone finally vibrates with an incoming email.

.

.

It’s a quiet night in at their apartment; just the two of them eating takeaway Chinese and watching a mindless zombie flick.

“You know,” she says, munching on an egg roll and staring intently at the screen. “Since zombies are technically dead bodies, they’d start rotting in the heat. And the cold would freeze them.”

Stefan nods sagely. “After a while they’d be useless.”

“But the real question is.” She points a chopstick at him. “Why would a dead body crave even more dead meat?”

A phone ring interrupts their illuminating conversation. As Stefan walks into his room to answer his phone, Caroline picks up the remote and fast-forwards all the boring parts. She wants the blood and gore, dammit.

“That was Lexi,” he says, sitting beside her. “She wanted me to come over.”

Caroline waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah don’t worry, I’ll finish your sweet and sour pork for you.”

“I said no.”

“Why?”

“What, I wanted to hang out with my best friend tonight. I’m not going to ditch you.”

She laughs a little. “Stefan, please. If a guy had called me over at 11 in the night, I would’ve ditched you in a heartbeat.”

“You mean Klaus?”

The smile on her face freezes. “Sorry?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Care.”

“Oh my god, Damon told you? I’m going to kill that bastard.”

“Wait- Damon knew? No, no he didn’t tell me anything. I sort of figured it out on my own.”

“Oh.”

She’s still staring at a zombie enthusiastically chomping on a woman’s arm, not being able to bear the strained silence. At the same time, she doesn’t know what to say.

Stefan rubs his chin. “It was just so surprising, you know.”

“Save it. I know what you’re going to say. He’s _Klaus_ and I’m _Caroline_. We don’t work together, we’d mess up the group for nothing, blah blah blah. Don’t worry, it was just sex.” Despite herself, she feels a twinge of guilt.

“No. It was surprising not because I thought you guys wouldn’t work together. Actually, you guys sort of make sense. He’s _Klaus_ and you’re _Caroline_.”

“Oh.”

“I was just taken aback because of how I felt when I found out.”

“Ah, um. And how _did_ you feel?” she whispers.

“It made me want to punch a wall.”

She looks down at her hands in her lap. Her fists are clenched so tight there are crescent-shaped marks on her palm.

“You have a girlfriend,” is all she can come up with.

“And instead of being with her I’m sitting here with you.”

“What’s your point?”

Instead of replying he walks over to her. He hesitates for a moment before bending down and kissing her.

Caroline sits completely still. Her eyes involuntarily close at the warm pressure of his lips. He smells nice, she notes idly.

Stefan pulls away and she detects a hint of embarrassment on his face on seeing her blank expression.

“What-”

Stefan sighs. “Look, Care, I know I haven’t treated you right. You’ve always had feelings for me and-”

She finally explodes. “I’m sick of everyone making assumptions about me! Okay maybe I had some lingering feelings left over from college. But everything’s changed. _I’ve_ changed!”

Agitated, he starts pacing across the room. He stops for a moment to ask her, almost accusingly, “Because Klaus happened.”

“Oh my god, this is not about Klaus! This is about me. _My_ feelings.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, maybe I’ve learned not to settle.”

“But I’ve always thought- you and me, we’re so easy. We get along so well, we’ve been friends forever. We already live in the same apartment, for heaven’s sake.”

“And what if I don’t want easy. Ever thought of that, Stefan? Maybe I don’t want to stay in this apartment forever. Maybe I want to travel the world.”

“So we’ll travel the world together.”

She actually laughs. “Stefan, that’s not possible.”

“Why not?”

“For starters, you have a job.”

“So do you. We can always take a vacation.”

“Well, I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“Because I quit my job!”

He finally stops pacing. “What?”

She takes a deep breath. God, she would kill for a drink. “I sort of applied to this other company. They’re based in LA. Their reply came today.”

“What did they say?”

“They accepted me.”

There’s a brief silence as he processes this. “So you’re moving to the West Coast?” says Stefan, disappointed.

“I’m not.”

“Huh?”

“I said no.”

“What? But-”

“Just, just hear me out, okay? You have no idea how glad I was this happened. That I got this opportunity. Because it made me realise one thing- I could never work under someone. Sure, those guys were great. They _loved_ me, said I had a lot of potential. And I don’t know, it kind of gave me the confidence to quit my job at Meredith’s and consider doing something I’ve always wanted to but never had the guts to actually do.”

Stefan stares at her blankly for a while before his face breaks into a tentative smile. “Start your own business?”

“Start my own damn business. I’ve already talked to Cami. She’s on board.”

Her smile fades as she continues. “See, Stefan, this is going to be a very confusing, uncertain part of my life. I really need you to be there for me, but not,” She gestures between them. “Not like this. I can’t handle any more complications. Because that’s exactly what this is- I don’t feel that way about you, and you’re clearly trying to project whatever’s been going on with Lexi on me. Because I’m Caroline, the safe option, the second choice, the Elena replacement.”

“Caroline, you were never-”.

She holds up a hand. “Let’s not argue about that. I’ve moved on.”

They stare at each other for moments that seem like years. Caroline feels exhausted but light, purged of everything she’s ever wanted to say. Stefan rubs his forehead, still at a loss for words.

“Stefan, you should go,” she says softly. “Lexi’s waiting for you.”

And at that, she pivots on her heels and walks into her room, slamming the door behind her, filled with an inexplicable urge to laugh and cry at the same time.

.

.

She manages to avoid her friends the next day, convinced that Stefan must have told them already. She goes over to Cami’s place and they spend hours making plans for their company, drawing up the necessary permits. Cami had agreed instantly when Caroline had asked her; it was something the two of them had often discussed, albeit jokingly, whenever Meredith got too much to handle.

“This is so exciting,” says Cami, looking at all the paperwork spread on the table. “But nerve-wracking as hell. What if we don’t get enough clients?”

“Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure a couple of people we worked with liked us better than Meredith. I mean, the Romanos would totally drop her in a heartbeat once they hear we’ve opened our own firm. Remember how she said they didn’t ‘look gay enough’?”

As she figures out which clients they could poach from Meredith, Cami concentrates on converting her second bedroom into a temporary workspace. She hauls a boxful of junk into the living room and wipes her brows.

“Wow, you never realise how much of this old rubbish just keeps accumulating. Until one day you wake up and find yourself drowning in stuff you should’ve thrown away years ago.”

Caroline leans forward and plucks a pair of red cowboy boots. “Yeah, like these. These boots should never have seen the light of day.”

Cami laughs and takes them from her. “Yeah, I never wore them once. I bought it on a dare, actually. My brother had these crazy ideas.” A sad smile flits across her face as she fingers the leather.

It occurs to Caroline that she didn’t even know Cami had a brother, let alone what had happened to him. _How much do I really know my business partner? Can I really trust her? What if everything goes to pieces?_ Because if this fails, she will fall _hard_.

And then she thinks- sure, what she’s doing is uncertain and risky and bold and everything she’s always avoided. But Caroline is sick of not doing anything. She’s sick of watching the important moments in her life pass each other by like ships in the dark. She’s sick of what-ifs.

Cami carefully places the red cowboy boots in the To Keep pile and says, “Hey, we never really discussed what we’re going to call ourselves.”

“I’ve just been calling it _Events!_ in my head. With an exclamation point. Lame, I know.”

“What about just our names? _Forbes & O’Connell. _Simple and elegant.”

A slow smile plays around her mouth as Caroline tries out the title. “It feels right.”

Oh, they’ll be fine.

.

.

When she gets back home in the evening, she goes straight to the rooftop with a pack of cigarettes. At this height, the city seems strangely silent, as if someone has pressed mute on the luminous traffic below.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

For a moment, she thinks it’s Klaus. Rooftop cigarettes were a ritual of sorts between them. But then she remembers he isn’t supposed to be back until the next day.

“Hey, Stefan.”

“Hi. I got beer,” he says, placing the cooler next to her and sitting down. She offers him a cigarette but he declines.

“So I was thinking.”

“Hmm?”

“What’s a four-letter word for marsh plant?” She looks over to see his head bent over the newspaper he’d brought with him.

“Reed,” she suggests.

He squints at the crossword. “Seven-letter word for ridiculous imitation?”

“Uhmm, mockery?”

“And what’s a six-letter word for idiot?”

She thinks for a moment and smiles to herself. “ _Stefan_. Though it could also be another word for asshole, jerk, bastard. You get the drift.”

Stefan looks up sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck.

“I have to say, if this is an apology, it’s very cheesy.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. For being such a terrible friend. For being a selfish jerk.”

She nods and points her cigarette at him. “And for coming on to me while you still had a girlfriend.”

He makes a face. “Yes, for that too.”

“Did you- is Lexi-”

“We talked. We talked for a long long time. And everything’s so much clearer now. It’s like I wasn’t thinking straight all this while. I still don’t know where things are going with Lexi. But, honestly? I can’t wait to find out.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Yeah. Thanks for, you know, not putting up with my bullshit.”

“Well, what are friends for?”

Stefan doesn’t reply. They sit in uncomfortable silence as he keeps folding and unfolding the newspaper in his hands.

“Oh god, it’s going to be a little weird between us, isn’t it?” he finally says.

“Totally. _Seriously_ weird.”

“But things- it’ll be fine eventually, right?” He meets her eyes and there’s a hopeful tinge to his voice.

“It’ll take time, but I guess it’ll be okay,” she says, taking a languid drag. “And hey, if everyone can still be friends after the whole Elena-dating-you-then-falling-in-love-with-Damon drama, anything’s possible.”

Stefan laughs softly. As she finishes her cigarette and lights up another one, she notices that the silence is less strained now. She hears a tearing noise and sees Stefan absently ripping the newspaper into squares.

“Speaking of drama,” he says, quietly. “What about Klaus?”

She flicks her lighter on and off and asks, “What about him?”

“I mean, you and him. Is he another complication in your life right now?”

“It’s so weird. I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“But?”

“But it’s too late.”

“No, it isn’t. You can still do something about it. Do you- do you want to?” he adds, hesitant.

“I don’t know,” she replies honestly.

There’s a pause as she flicks the cigarette butt down. She doesn’t want to talk about this, especially with Stefan. He seems to realise this as he drops the matter and goes back to the sheets of paper on his lap, folding and shaping them into something familiar.

“Hey, are those paper planes?”

And then they sit on the rooftop, sipping beer and sailing paper planes. Some of them -of the kamikaze bent of mind- crash unerringly into the concrete several storeys below. Most of them get stuck in the branches of the tree Mrs. Grandyn from the flat opposite had been trying to get cut because it blocked her view. And as she watches the rare few that land flawlessly on the neighbouring building’s rooftop, she wonders if there’s some grand lesson those brave little paper planes can teach her.

.

.

They’re at the airport waiting for Klaus’s flight when Katherine makes a surprising announcement.

“Since Mikaelson’s flight is a little delayed, I’ll just come out and say this before you idiots accuse me of not sharing earlier.”

“It’s just me and Barbie here,” Damon points out. “Don’t you want to wait until we meet the others? Or at least until the flight lands?”

“No, this is actually perfect timing. Plus, Stefan or Elena would probably turn it into a big emotional moment, which _cannot_ happen.”

“Why, have you been knocked up?” He squints at her stomach. “Wait, it’s rehab, isn’t it?”

“Shut up. I’m moving in with Elijah.”

“Wow, you really are pregnant.”

“Damon! Kat, that’s really great news,” says Caroline, hugging her.

Caroline feels happy for her friend, but she can’t help thinking that this is really the beginning of the end. Then she meets her eyes and feels guilty, because Katherine can’t stop smiling and she’s never seen that expression on her face. She looks almost…bashful.

“Yeah, yeah it’s not that big a deal,” she says, rolling her eyes with a grin. “We’re just moving in, not getting married or anything. Yuck.”

“When did you guys decide?”

“When he came back from England. You know, that day we went to that bar and drank a lot of Snake Juice and Damon threw up on the bouncer.” Damon grimaces. “Yeah, I don’t know, seeing his mother made him realise a few things about life. So he asked me. It was unbelievably cheesy.”

“Don’t lie, you loved it.”

Katherine shrugs and bites her lip.

Damon smirks. “Klaus is going to get so weirded out.”

At the sound of his name, the damn butterflies in Caroline’s stomach start acting up again.

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” says Katherine dismissively. “Anyway, now that we’re on the subject of Klaus, what are we going to do about this idiot?”

Caroline moans and covers her eyes. “Kat!”

“What? Everyone knows you were banging Klaus behind our backs all this while. Damon walked in on you guys. He blabbed to Elena. And you even had a nice long talk with Stefan about it.”

“Listen, now is not the time.”

“Look, Blondie, we’re already at the airport. No better place for a grand gesture of love.”

“Oh my god Damon, there’s not going to be any grand gesture of love!”

“Why not? You clearly like him. And he’s been insufferably broody ever since you guys stopped fucking.”

“Because we’re friends! And I don’t know what he wants, I don’t even know what _I_ want. There’re too many things going on with my life right now.”

“You mean in your work life?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I’m going to be five months from now. Cami and I are thinking of travelling, getting ideas and building our client database. Europe, maybe. She has family in Ireland. See, it’s too complicated.”

Katherine snorts and crushes her cigarette butt with her boot. “Caroline, five months ago, I had no idea I would be in such a serious relationship with Elijah. No one ever knows. We just need to grab the opportunity when we see it. Carpe Diem and all that crap.”

“Listen, Klaus is just coming back from a family emergency. We’re barely back to how we were before all this shit started. I can’t spring this on him now. I can’t mess it up.”

Damon rubs his face and sighs. “Whatever, Blondie. But if you guys start moping and pining over each other again, I’ll lock both of you in a room and throw away the key.”

Caroline rolls her eyes and nods. Katherine gives her a look as if she’s disappointed and pulls out her phone, presumably texting Elijah.

The doors open with the smell of air-conditioning and jet lag and as the sun sinks behind her she watches her shadow lengthen in front, slowly stretching as if to greet the new arrivals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snake Juice is, of course, from Parks and Recreation.  
> Don't forget to leave a comment!  
> And do vote for my fic if you liked it :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The final chapter!  
> I'm so sorry it took so long. Honestly, I'd been struggling with a particular scene and my will to finish just died. But recently, I re-read all your kind comments and reviews and felt that I couldn't possibly let you guys down :)  
> So this is for you. Thanks for sticking till the end. This is the longest story I've ever posted! Hope you enjoy it :D

Elena’s bachelorette is so wild and depraved that they make a pact to never tell anyone about it.

“Katherine really outdid herself, didn’t she?” says Elena, looking at the sleeping brunette sprawled across the hotel bed.

“Mmm, I have half a mind to hire her,” replies Caroline, gingerly touching the ice pack to the bruise on her cheek. “Maybe she should organise your wedding instead.”

Elena laughs. “Nah, she’s not up for the kind of work that doesn’t involve strippers. Plus, I really really wanted to be your first client.”

“Yeah well we’ve seriously set the bar for our clients,” she says dryly, gesturing at Elena’s hangover hair, smeared makeup, and the butterfly tattoo peeking out from the top of her jeans.

Elena winces and twists around, trying to get another look at her tramp stamp. “We really need to get rid of this.”

Later as Elena enquires about tattoo removals at the concierge desk, Caroline goes to the poolside café and stands for a while in front of the counter. She’s just trying to figure out what kind of food wouldn’t make her throw up when she spots Klaus looking unnecessarily cheerful.

“Klaus, hey! What are you doing here?”

He takes in her sunglasses and rumpled hair and smirks. “Damon wanted me to drop off Elena’s contact lens solution.”

She smiles. Stefan had thrown his brother a bachelor party at a hotel not very far from here, but clearly that wasn’t enough for Damon. “And let me guess he also wanted you to spy on Elena and come back with updates.”

“Of course.”

“Well on the subject of our bachelorette shenanigans, my lips are sealed.” She finally decides on a chocolate croissant.

He shrugs lazily. “Whatever. I tried.”

Without a word, they move into the indoor area of the café and settle down on a table. Klaus gets a closer look at her bruise and flinches.

“Jesus Christ, who did that to you?”

“Relax, Klaus. I fell. Right on my face. Because apparently vodka makes me clumsy.”

He exhales and takes a closer look. “It’s turning yellow, now,” he says, grinning a little.

“I know.” She rips into her croissant. “And it hurts like a bitch.”

“So, how’s work going? Cami holding the fort okay while you’re here getting up to god-knows-what?”

“It’s going well. And I trust Cami. We’re looking at renting an office soon.”

He gives her a dimpled smile. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Caroline. Klaus.” Elena approaches their table warily, looking from one to the other.

Klaus holds up a stiff cardboard carry-bag. “Your contact lens solution. Thought I’d drop it by on my way to the locksmith.”

“Locksmith?” says Elena sharply, sitting next to Caroline. “Why, what happened?”

He merely smiles and mimes zipping his mouth shut, sending Caroline a wink.

“Fair enough,” she replies wryly. “I’m just going to go check if they have those blueberry muffins.”

Klaus watches Elena walk towards the counter with an odd expression. “Is that… a tattoo?”

Caroline smirks. “Maybe.”

He leans forward. “Really? Some interesting story behind it?”

“ _Very_ interesting.”

“And how much will that information cost me?”

“Depends on what you have to offer.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can figure out something to our mutual satisfaction.”

“Have I told you how much I hate it when blueberry muffins have just a few blueberries at the top and the rest is all cake?” says Elena, dropping into her chair. Caroline straightens up with a start. “I mean that’s not a blueberry muffin. That’s just having blueberries for the sake of having blueberries.”

As Elena continues her diatribe against muffin tokenism, Caroline tries in vain to calm her racing heart. Ever since he came back, things between her and Klaus have been strictly platonic, a conscious choice on both their parts. It’s been good having him back as a friend, hanging out with the gang without any drama, planning Elena’s wedding, working with Cami from their temporary office. At times she feels they can move past everything. They made a series of bad decisions, but they’ve been mature about it and gone back to being friends. An arrangement that has clearly worked out well.

And then there are times like _this_ , when she feels that tug again. That feeling that just being friends with him isn’t enough.

Klaus checks his phone. “I should get going. Damon’s getting antsy.” He stands up. “Have fun, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” She watches him leave, idly tearing her croissant into bits.

“Caroline.”

“Yes?”

“Stop staring at his ass.”

“Yeah, as if I haven’t seen everything else.”

Elena narrows her eyes. “Really, this is the stage we’re at? Where you guys just ignore what happened and makes jokes?”

“We aren’t ignoring anything, ‘Lena,” she says, for possibly the hundredth time. “We’re just moving on.”

“Oh, and I didn’t just walk in on the two of you eye-sexing a minute ago.”

“God, that was just Klaus being Klaus. That’s what he does, he flirts reflexively. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you sure?” Elena raises her muffin to her mouth and nibbles at it delicately. “Are you sure you don’t feel like you made a mistake not telling him how you feel when he came back?”

“Yes, I didn’t make a mistake,” she replies, emphatically. “It’s been really good ever since, it really has. I needed time to clear my head.”

“And? Is your head clear enough?”

“Elena. I thought you wouldn’t meddle in my love life anymore.”

“This isn’t meddling. Consider this a polite enquiry.”

“Then take this as my _polite_ suggestion to butt out.”

Elena grins and raises her palm. “Point taken.”

“Anyway, we should get Katherine some food. She’ll need it soon.”

“Say, who’s going to tell Katherine she went crazy on a dare and gave herself a haircut with a razor? Can’t be me, I’m the bride.”

“Oh, you’re playing the bride card now, are you?”

“Damn right. I can’t be murdered violently by my cousin before my own wedding.”

“I hate you.”

.

.

“Hey, Caroline. Your parents just RSVP’d,” says Stefan, sorting through the mail.

“Together?” she asks, surprised.

“Of course not. Bill and Steven wish they could’ve come but they’re going on a holiday. Liz said she’s busy.”

“Of course she is,” she mutters under her breath, taking the rest of the RSVPs from him. She knew she expected too much of her parents to come and attend their daughter’s best friend’s wedding, not to mention the first event she would be organising under Forbes & O’Connell. In their own ways, they’d both said they were proud of her but those were mere words. Caroline had learnt long ago not to trust words.

Running a pen down the finalised guest list, she says, “Stefan, why don’t you have a plus one? Where’s Lexi?”

“Oh, she won’t able to make it. She has a conference.”

“She does?”

“Yeah. Guess you’ll have to put me at the singles table.”

They laugh as if on cue.

“Well,” says Stefan. “I’m going down to the bar.”

“See you in a bit.”

“Awkward,” Katherine quips from where she’s sprawled on the couch.

She opens her phone to see three missed calls from Cami, a couple of emails from the caterer, and a few texts from the bride herself.

“Honestly, I would be worried,” Caroline replies, putting her phone to her ear. “But I don’t have time for this.”

.

.

New Orleans is everything she’d imagined. The art, the culture, the lights, the street life, the food. Oh my god, the food.

Damon and Elena had elected to spend the weekend before the big day with their families, so it’s up to Katherine, Stefan and her to attend Klaus’s big gallery opening.

As she looks at the crowd and the paintings at display, she thinks of how different this is from his earlier exhibitions. Serious buyers mingle with art critics as they stroll from painting to painting, murmuring words of praise, flutes of champagne in their hands. This might probably be the most important night of his life, she thinks watching Klaus from the corner of her eye. This could be the night that finally establishes him as an artist to watch out for.

His paintings are of everyday New York scenes; at the same time, they could be of any city in the world. There’s a sense of poignancy to some of them, a feeling that the moment captured in them will never come again. A sidewalk buzzing with office-goers. A subway filled with tired faces. There’s also a sense of resilience, a hyperreal focus on the people inhabiting the city; their hopes, their dreams, their fears. The people that make the city what it is. Over all, it’s very very different to the landscapes and abstract art she’s seen him do.

She examines a rooftop scene in front of her, of the sun rising through the ugly wires and buildings in the distance. She thinks she recognises the roof.

“Powerful stuff, isn’t it?”

She turns to see a man dressed in a dark suit smiling at her.

“I’m Marcel. You must be Caroline.”

She nods, a little confused as to how he’d recognised her.

“When I first saw Klaus’s work, I was struck,” he says, coming to stand next to her. “That man really knows how to make you feel things.”

“So I’ve noticed. So how do you think it’s going? What’s the reception like?”

“It’s amazing. It’s been a while since we’ve hosted an artist of such potential.”

“About that, I was wondering shouldn’t this exhibition have been about New Orleans? All I can see is New York.”

Marcel smiles widely, showing all his teeth. “I believe you cannot hide where you come from, what you love. And that’s what I see in these paintings. Not just a city. Of course,” he adds, “the original direction was something else.”

“Really? What was it?”

“A little more…intimate. Those were the paintings I first saw, that made me decide to take him. But Klaus changed his mind. It didn’t matter because these paintings are absolutely brilliant, but to be honest, I prefer the earlier ones.”

“Can I see them?” she asks before she can stop herself.

Marcel looks at her for a long while. Finally, he makes up his mind.

“Sure.”

.

.

Caroline cannot breathe.

“I sort of suspected when I saw you tonight. But he never really talked about it, so I let it drop.”

They’re of her. All the five paintings in the storage room below the gallery are of her. None of them show her face clearly but she knows instinctively it’s her.

The first one shows her on the grey and gloomy street, her face turned away, a cigarette in her hand. The only colour comes from the yellow in her hair and the green of her coat. She can almost feel herself stamping her feet to keep out the cold, impatiently inhaling the smoke.

The second one is of her in the middle of the bar, almost unnoticed in the hustle and bustle. She looks drunk, and she’s in mid-conversation, the visible side of her face smiling softly. The third is almost the same as the rooftop painting, but it’s from her point of view now. She’s sitting on the red fire escape, feet stretched out, a bottle of beer on her side.

The next one makes her blush. She’s in the shower behind the translucent glass, rivulets of water down her bare back. She admires the play of light, how it reflects on the glass and the water, the strands of wet blonde hair sticking to her back, the mole on her right shoulder he got exactly right.

She stares at the last painting for a long time. She’s standing at the edge of a pond, surrounded by greenery. It looks like she could be anywhere- a Tuscan countryside, an English garden, even a Monet landscape. But she knows exactly where she is. At Central Park, feeding the ducks.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “I never- I can’t…”

“I shouldn’t have shown this to you,” begins Marcel nervously. She’d forgotten he was in the room. “I didn’t know-”

“Marcel! Davina has been looking for you everywhere. I swear I can’t stand-”

Klaus’s voice fades when he sees her.

Marcel clears his throat. “I’ll go talk to her.” He throws them an apprehensive look and hurries out the room.

In the silence that follows, Caroline’s heart thuds painfully loud in her ear. Klaus manages to convert his surprise into an unreadable mask and walks stiffly towards her.

“Marcel shouldn’t have shown you these.”

“No, it wasn’t his fault. I asked him.”

“I was- I was going to tell you about them, but there was never a good time.” A swift, wry smile. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have painted you without asking. Shouldn’t have painted these private moments.”

“Why did you paint me?”

He ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair. Caroline realises with a jolt that he’s nervous. She’s never seen him anything less than self-assured.

“There was this phase where I was stuck. I would spend hours in front of a canvas and it would remain blank. And when I tried to force myself to paint, I hated the result. Nothing inspired me. Until _you_.”

“Me?”

“Yes. When we started, you know, sleeping together, spending more time together, I began painting again. I abandoned all the crappy abstract shit and focused on painting something new.” He points upstairs. “All this is because of you, Caroline.” Something in his expression shifts, before it dissipates and he turns away.

She steps closer to him.

“Klaus-”

“I know, I know, these are a little creepy.” He looks at the painting of her in the shower. “Don’t worry, I was never going to show them to public. I’ll get rid of them if you want,” he adds painfully.

Caroline reaches out and touches him. “That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want then?” he asks, not looking at her but at her hand on his arm.

It’s up to her to say something, to make the move. Suddenly, she’s filled with an urge to laugh it off. To brush away the seriousness. She looks at his face and realises he’s half-hoping, half-fearing she says what she’s thinking. It would be easy to stay at this ledge forever. Safe, happy, content.

She can feel Klaus pulling away. She almost lets him go.

And then she thinks of what Katherine had said at the airport.

Carpe. _Fucking_. Diem.

Caroline takes the leap.

.

.

They’re in his hotel room, intent on making up for lost time, but Caroline stops Klaus before so much as removes a shoe.

“Wait, we need to talk about this first.”

Klaus groans. “Caroline, we’ll do that in the morning! Right now we have more important things to do.”

In one swift movement, he shucks off his jacket and Caroline has to cross to the other end of the room to physically stop herself from ripping his shirt.

“No, we’re not going to make the same mistake as last time. We’re doing this _now_!”

“Fine. Let’s begin.”

They pace around each other in the luxurious hotel room as if they’re preparing to spar and talk about everything they should have a long time ago.

“I kissed Stefan,” she blurts.

“What?”

“It was just one time. He thought there was something. Hell, _I_ thought there was something. But that was before all this” – she gestures between them- “happened. I feel nothing now. It was like a bad dream.”

“Well, I’m not going to pretend that’s very good news.”

“I didn’t see the point of lying about it.”

“Hmm.” His eyes are still a little stormy.

“You don’t have to worry,” she says, stepping closer. “I chose you.”

“You know, it’s a little less complicated on my side. I’ve always chosen you. I don’t know when it started, maybe when I met you for the first time, but you’ve always, unequivocally and irrevocably, been ‘The One’ for me.” He makes sarcastic little air quotes and smiles, the widest she’s ever seen him smile.

Despite herself, Caroline’s eyes blur with tears. “Wow, no one has ever said anything like that to me.” She takes a deep breath. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, even after we ended things. It was like this whizzing and popping in my stomach. I thought I was sick. I couldn’t even face looking at Jesse.”

“Okay, since we’re being honest with each other, I might have slept with someone when I was in London.”

“Oh.”

“Aurora. It was nothing. We met at a pub and went back to her flat and-”

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter but I don’t really need the details.”

“Fair enough.”

“So?”

“So.”

They stand, almost nose to nose, and grin at each other.

“We’re really doing this.”

“Yes, yes we are.” The expression on his face shutters for a moment before he asks quietly, “Caroline are you completely sure? I can’t- I won’t be able to settle for just sex.”

She rolls her eyes as if it’s the stupidest question ever, which it is. “Of course I am.”

“Okay then.” He leans in but Caroline holds up a hand.

“Wait!”

“What now?”

“We need to talk about what we tell the others.”

“Okay, now _that_ can wait later,” he growls, carrying her bridal style to the bed.

.

.

“To the new couple! Can’t say I didn’t see it coming.”

“Especially me,” says Stefan mock-ruefully. “I should’ve seen it coming ages ago.” Elena smacks his arm.

“I’m glad we can joke about these things now.”

“We really are a messed up bunch.”

Caroline raises her glass. “That’s why I love you guys.”

Damon strokes his chin thoughtfully. “I’m not sure about this whole ‘new couple’ business. I feel the same.”

“Really? Isn’t marriage supposed to be like falling in love all over again?”

“It’s only been like half-an-hour since the ceremony,” Elena points out.

“But don’t you feel like a warm glow inside?” asks Stefan plaintively. “All tingly when you call each other _wife_ and _husband_?”

Damon and Elena look at each other for a long time.

“Nah,” they say in unison.

Katherine shrugs and calls for more champagne to their table. “Poor Stefan just had his illusions about marriage shattered.”

“Hey, it’s tough being the only one without a date.”

Klaus frowns. “What are you talking about? I’m here too.”

The entire table laughs. Even Elijah cracks a grin.

“What?” asks Caroline warily.

Katherine rolls her eyes. “You think you guys are so good at being sneaky. Well, we’re smarter now.”

“All the bickering-”

“Disappearing at the same times-”

“Seriously, Care, if the two of you were even half as obvious before it’s a wonder we didn’t notice.”

“All those looks-”

“- and subtle touching-”

“It would have been nauseating if you guys weren’t so goddamn cute.”

Klaus looks at her blushing face and grins. “I told you they would figure it out.”

“We were going to tell everyone after Damon and Elena’s honeymoon! Didn’t want any more drama.”

Damon places a hand on his heart in affront. “How can you say that, Barbie? We always want drama. Nay, we _need_ drama. In fact, our entire group thrives on drama.”

Elena’s still staring at them. She’d been strangely quiet.

Caroline sighs. “Go ahead, ‘Lena. Ask away.”

“So what’s the deal? Is it just sex? Or are you guys together together now?”

She can feel the entire table listening.

Klaus raises their entwined hands and places a kiss on her knuckles. “Yes, we’re _together together_.”

Damon shields his eyes. “Oh my god, I cannot deal with this PDA. Save me, please.” Elena rolls her eyes and drags Damon to the dance floor, and before they dance for the second time that evening as husband and wife, she gives Caroline a proud smile. And then her entire attention is on Damon.

“I can practically see heart emojis in your eyes,” says Katherine, disgusted. “If you guys fuck this up, I’ll have to kill you both.”

“We’ll do our best.”

Katherine nods and then gestures at the dancing couples. “Dance?” she asks Elijah brusquely.

Elijah, never one to be rushed, dabs his mouth with a napkin (deep blue, perfectly matching the china) and slowly pushes himself off the table. He passes by Klaus and briefly lays a hand on his shoulder.

Then it’s just her and Klaus and Stefan.

“More champagne?”

They clink their glasses. “To Klaroline,” toasts Stefan, “or is it Carolaus?”

“Definitely not Carolaus.”

“And another toast to the wedding and all the hard work and planning Caroline and Cami put into it.”

“You did a brilliant job, love.”

“Thank you.” Caroline searches the crowd for Cami and finds her standing in a corner, an iPad in her hand. She’d taken charge of the reception in order to let Caroline spend some time with her friends. She catches Caroline’s eye and flashes her a thumbs up. The event _had_ gone successfully. Already she’s amassed a number of business cards from potential clients.

Klaus leans over and whispers in her ear, “Dance with me?”

It should be illegal to be this happy, she thinks as Klaus spins her into a particularly elaborate dip.

“Show-off,” she mutters.

His laugh is low and rich, and it sends an electric thrill down her spine. “You know you love it.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

There’s a comfortable lull in their conversation and Caroline lets her eyes sweep across the room, briefly settling on Stefan sitting alone at the table.

Klaus follows her gaze. “Do you think Stefan and Lexi would be next?”

“Anything’s possible.”

“Or maybe it’s Katherine and Elijah.”

“Look at you speculating about our friends getting married. What happened to the ‘beginning of the end’?”

“Well-”

“And don’t say any shit about _this is not the end, this is the beginning_ ,” she says in her best British accent.

Klaus only laughs and pulls her closer. And when they kiss, it’s like they’re the only two people in the world.

“So where to next?” he asks. “Rome, Paris, Tokyo?”

When she’d told Klaus about her plans to travel, he’d simply said that he could paint from anywhere in the world. Then Marcel had an idea about doing a series of paintings on different cities and their people. It was funny how these things could fit into your life when you wanted them to.

“Slow down there, Mikaelson. Our company is hardly an international business. It’s just within the country. Maybe Ireland, but that’s only because Cami has like a million cousins who keep getting married.”

“I wasn’t actually talking about work.”

“Oh, is that so? Well in that case, why not all three?”

“As you wish,” he says and he leads her towards their table where everyone else has congregated once again.

Stefan holds up his glass, making yet another toast. He really does love making toasts.

“To the next chapter of our lives, and to adulthood.”

“To adulthood!” they intone.

“To responsible drinking and spending less time at the bar and more time being productive members of society,” he says solemnly.

The rest put their glasses down quickly.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

Damon ruffles his brother’s hair, ruining the carefully dishevelled look.

“Who wants shots?”

.

.

It’s Halloween and they’re this close to winning the group costume contest at the bar. They’ve dressed up as Disney villains, and even Klaus deigns to put on an outfit and roam around flexing his muscles (he’s Gaston of course). But another group dressed as beloved sitcom characters based in New York (“Those ironic little bitches,” Katherine hisses) seem to be winning until Damon stands up on a chair and makes an impromptu, impassioned speech about how much he enjoyed killing Bambi’s mom. She’s pretty sure she’s never seen him on the receiving end of so many dirty looks and boos since his manwhoring days in college.

So they spend the 300 dollar certificate to the bar right then, laughing and talking like it’s any other night. Except Caroline keeps tripping over her Ursula tentacles and Elena’s Maleficent horns keep slipping off.

“To us,” Stefan toasts, splashing a little beer on the long robes that made him look like Jafar. Now that he has a spare bedroom again, he’s thinking of converting it into a work space and asking Lexi to move in.

“To us,” they echo. Then they cheer Katherine when she manages to score a number in her evil old lady getup by staring into the guy’s eyes and biting into her apple. She clicks a picture of the number and sends it to Elijah with a wink smiley. She tells them she’s been slowly trying to teach him how to use emojis.

And later, as they go through the prize money in barely three hours, Caroline knows it’s going to be one of those nights where everyone passes out in the living room upstairs and wakes up with a nasty hangover, wincing at every sound and drinking strong coffee; they’d leisurely eat Chinese takeout when it’s too late for breakfast and vow never to drink as much again, only to break the promise a week later.

And sitting in their favourite booth, with Klaus’s arm slung around her, she thinks of the day she’d run into Elena all that time ago. It was at a coffee shop she’d usually never step into if not for an intern at Meredith’s who’d recommended their latte. And even then she would’ve missed Elena if she hadn’t come back to the counter after finishing her coffee to try out their cheesecake. She wonders what would have happened if their chance meeting had ended with a few lines of catching up while standing in line at a coffee shop. Elena and Stefan and Damon would have been relegated to those old college friends you keep a passing track of on social media and who text you on your birthday.

She wouldn’t have met Katherine. She definitely wouldn’t have met Klaus.

She doesn’t think of it as luck or destiny. But Life, and how in its sure but twisting way leads you to the place you were supposed to be all along.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A loud buzzing interrupts her dreams. She wakes up with a groan on the now-familiar bed. Klaus is already up, she can hear him rushing about the room and getting ready. He has an early meeting with Marcel and a few investors and he’d been a little stressed about it last night. Caroline had known the perfect way to get his mind off it. She stretches her still-sore legs with a pleased sigh.

“Hey, I think Kol sent me an email last night. Can you just read it and see what he wants?” says Klaus, hastily slathering his face with shaving foam. “I’m really running late.”

She yawns and leans across the bed to pick up his phone from the bedstand. She rolls her eyes at his lockscreen. It’s an embarrassing picture from the time she’d tried painting with him; she’s sticking her tongue out in concentration and there’s a huge swathe of green paint on her cheek.

“Kol wants to talk about Esther’s 70th birthday,” she tells him. “They want to plan a big surprise.”

“Fine, I’ll call him from the cab,” comes the muffled reply from the bathroom. “You’ll come with me, right?”

“To London?”

“Yeah.”

She nods before remembering he can’t see her. “Of course.”

Caroline swaps his iPhone for hers and lazily scrolls through her notifications. There’s a voicemail from Cami, sounding frantic, bitching about being stood up by a blind date and asking Caroline if she wants to join her for drinks. Oops. She really should check her inbox more often.

On a whim, Caroline goes to her files where she finds a bunch of old voice notes she’d recorded. She clears them and pauses at the one she was supposed to have sent Klaus a long time ago.

She’d been unbelievably drunk, and really really pissed off. She’d called him a number of names, her voice filled with vitriol, words getting progressively slurred. She’d recorded it a few days after Damon had walked in on them, during a particularly rant-filled single girls’ night with Cami and other work friends.

As she listens to it and cringes, she’s glad the audio file had been forever stuck in her phone. She remembers that night only vaguely.

“- and oh, tell me this, _Klaus_ , do you really think this is like one of those things where we realise we’re more than friends and that we belong together? Because _newsflash_ , sucker. You’re absolutely, completely wrong-”

She smiles, shakes her head fondly, and deletes the message.

 

THE END.


End file.
